Tearing Up the Script
by Mix Golden Phoenix
Summary: Sequel to The Horn's Grace. Thanks to the small bond between him and Gabriel, Sam has to get used to the idea of having psychic powers again. Dean has to fight against the Mark's influence as Cas tries to lead an angel army while his Grace diminishes. Gabriel seems remarkably unhelpful. Yet, Sam's sure the Archangel's working on a plan. Either way: Metatron has to be stopped.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: As stated in the summary, this is a sequel to my fic _The Horn's Grace_. As I told a few reviewers, I had plans of just uploading this when it was completely finished, but... As the first chapter is 10.5k words, and I've merely scratched the surface with the story, I feel I'd better update as I finish a chapter. Y'know, to avoid people forgetting the first installment. And, if you haven't, ya might wanna read the that. Or not. Yolo, right?**

* * *

Sam shook his head, scoffing as he looked over at Gabriel.

The Archangel had been pacing the entire time he'd given Sam a little rundown on what had happened to him after they'd left him to his fate with Lucifer.

He _had_ died, he'd said. Sam got the feeling he'd known that he would. That his plan hadn't been to take out his older brother, but to simply buy time to get them away.

It was a depressing thought. Sam knew how it felt going on a suicide mission. It sucked. Even knowing he was doing the right thing...it still sucked.

And, then, Gabriel wasn't dead. Just _zwoop_ and he was back in Elysian Fields. Naturally, Gabriel'd been a little creeped out. Confused. He was pretty sure that angels didn't have the Winchester odds when it came to escaping Death.

No one was pulling for him. Not the Host. Certainly not his brothers.

...Except that someone _had_. Just this once. And Gabriel knew who it'd been. Dear ol' Pops.

Gabriel had done nothing but laugh at the thought. Millenia of silence and then the deadbeat shows up to give him a pat on the back for _killing himself_? Grade A parenting there. But, he wasn't going to look the gift horse in the mouth. Wherever that horse was. No, he was getting the hell out of Dodge before _someone_ decided that an Archangel needed to get his ass back to Heaven.

So, he got his ass back to Heaven, anyway. Figured he'd do it so he wouldn't have to be dragged. Probably violently dragged, given his history. Angels loved giving spankings before letting people go about their business. No exceptions.

No, thank you.

He and Lucifer had been a bit mischievous 'growing up.' They'd gone places they shouldn't have. And they'd been smart enough to keep their mouth shut about said places. If God knew what was up, He certainly hadn't said anything about it.

It was one of these places that Gabriel had set up shop. Dug in his heels, made a comfy little nest, and was fully intent on just sitting there until the fallout of Michael and Lucifer's failures faded away.

Why, oh why, did he ever think it would be that easy?

No, things didn't get better. They got worse. Thanks to Raphael and God's new favorite. Little Castiel. A seraph now! Like that was any boost in power compared to an Archangel. Raphael could have swatted Cas like a bug and never blinked. Not like he hadn't done it before.

Yeah, Gabriel was around while the civil war raged on. And he'd shoved his head in the sand. Again. Because he knew his presence would tip the scale. He knew angels would flock to him for guidance or support.

He wasn't a leader. He couldn't make them fight each other. And he sure as hell wasn't going to get on Raphael's bad side. Lucifer'd taken him out once, and they'd been close. Raphael? Not so much. That determined stick-in-the-mud would have no problem sticking _him_.

No, thank you.

And then _Godstiel_ had happened. Boy, what a mess that'd been. The death toll was one thing, but after? The survivors rallying together and all, scrounging for a place at the top of the food chain? It'd been chaos. Chaos in Heaven, of all places. Hilarious.

Gabriel's head stayed in the sand. He was no hero. No knight in shining armor.

Maybe the angels would sort themselves out. Or wipe each other out.

Faction leaders amassed soldiers. Sheep. Sometimes they'd fight. Other times, they'd just...separate. Like tribes. It was kind of funny to think about.

The angels had _almost_ gotten to a settled point. ...and then there was Metatron. Oh, yes, Gabriel had heard when the Scribe had been found. The news had traveled across Angel Radio at the speed of light.

Gabriel wasn't fond of Metatron, either. There was something _off_ about him that had always rubbed the Archangel the wrong way. And after the shit that went down with Eden? Well.

Then, all the angels Fell. Like Humpty Dumpty. And _douchebag_ found his way to the metaphorical Throne. Gabriel knew the implications, so he'd hid.

Yes, again.

What could he say? He was good at it.

Sam couldn't believe what he was hearing. He could but he couldn't.

He could because this was Gabriel. He _knew_ the Archangel was good at running - at squirreling his way out of his responsibilities and even blame. But to hear that that's _all_ he seemed to prefer to do? It was mind blowing.

"So, you just...ran and hid?" He asked in disbelief. "While all this shit was going down and you could have done something to stop it?"

Gabriel snorted, "Oh, please, Sam. You know I'm not the bleeding heart type."

The Archangel looked briefly at the crumpled up papers on the floor. Papers Castiel had torn down to draw the angel siren. Papers that held the faces and names of Gadreel's victims...or his newest allies.

Sam studied said look. Yeah, sure. Not the bleeding heart type.

"Right," he began sarcastically, "because that's why you punish assholes and put yourself in harm's way to help save the world."

Gabriel smirked, cutting his eyes to Sam. He didn't respond to the jab, however. Simply ignored it as he began to pace again. Sam got the feeling Gabriel was anxious. He probably wanted to leave. _Run. _Sam frowned.

"Were you injured like the others?" He asked.

"Yup. Extra crispy wings and everything. You saw them, remember?" Gabriel asked, knowing the answer.

"So," Sam drawled. "You're stuck with us, aren't you?"

At that, Gabriel took a deep breath and spun on his heel to face Sam. His face gave it away. Yes, he was stuck with them. No, he wasn't pleased at the idea.

Sam tried not to be annoyed at the lack of enthusiasm. At least he understood it. They _had _kind of ruined Gabriel's life a few times. ...Not that he hadn't gotten them back for it, but still.

"Metatron's going to be after my ass," Gabriel explained. "Especially now that he can't use me like a puppet anymore. Guess I have to genuinely thank you for that one."

"You're welcome."

Gabriel smiled briefly. Mockingly. He probably didn't want to be in their debt.

"And I am _so_ not sticking with Castiel," he mumbled.

Sam frowned, "Why not?"

"Didja miss all the times I tried to keep my nose out of Heaven's business?"

"Seriously?" Sam questioned blankly.

Gabriel threw up his hands, "Hey! What can I say? I like saving my own ass."

"Ever thought about saving someone else's ass?"

The Archangel stared at him for a few seconds, unblinking.

"Right. Last time you did it, you got stabbed. Ever thought that maybe that was a one-time fluke? I mean, Metatron's not Lucifer."

"No. He's, apparently, _God._" Gabriel quipped, glancing at the door. "I'd rather not take my chances again, _thanks_."

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. Yeah, Gabriel was most definitely not like his Grace. He'd known that, of course, but experiencing the difference was jarring. The old annoyance at the Trickster was worming its way back into his feelings towards the other. Only, now, it was combined with the..._want_ he'd had towards the Grace. Yipee.

"When's your brother coming back?" Gabriel complained.

"You could just go ask him to hurry it up. He's probably still in the parking lot."

"Hellooo." Gabriel made a sort of wax-on, wax-off motion with his hands. "Warded. Outside? Not so much."

"Wow."

"Judge me all you want, Sam, but I know what'll happen to me if Metatron gets his hands on me again," Gabriel spoke, serious for a change.

The look he gave him quickly made Sam feel like a scolded child. He knew what would happen, too, after all. The Holy Fire. The siphoning of his Grace via that damn siren. Probably something _worse_ if Metatron couldn't find another use for him. Stuff Sam didn't want to think about because it was kind of terrifying to. And if _Sam_ was scared of what would happen if Gabriel was caught again, he had no doubt of the fear the Archangel had. Appropriate fear, at that.

He should probably lay off.

"Sorry," he muttered, shifting uncomfortably.

Gabriel hummed an affirmation, eyes cutting back to the door. He folded his arms across his chest.

Sam thought about texting Dean to get him to come back in. Then he thought about how upset Dean had been not too long ago. How upset Dean might still be. The thought gave him pause.

With the mindset Gabriel was in regarding his personhood, to be turned down by Dean would... Well, it wouldn't end well, he knew that for certain. He couldn't predict _what_ would go down, but there'd be more than just butting heads. The last thing he wanted was a confrontation. Or for Gabriel to be shoehorned off onto Castiel. After all, that put him directly in the path of the angels, some that might not be trustworthy.

Man, he hated sticky situations.

He didn't have to text Dean, though. It was only a minute of awkward silence before Castiel entered the room. Sam could see Dean standing outside before Cas closed the door behind him. He was frowning. That wasn't a good sign.

"Oh, don't tell me," Gabriel grumbled, arms still folded.

"He's not happy," Castiel answered. "For obvious reasons."

"This isn't Gabriel's fault," Sam spoke up, earning a somewhat surprised glance from Gabriel. "I mean, it takes two to tango, right? The Grace didn't force me to do anything. He can't blame - "

"He's not just angry at Gabriel," Cas interrupted.

"Oh." Sam frowned, shrugging once. "Of course he's not. Why wouldn't he be angry at me? I've done something he doesn't agree with. Again. What else is new?"

"Sam."

"Save it, Cas," he bit, perhaps too harshly. "I don't... I don't care, all right? I don't. I'm done caring. All that matters is that we get him," he nodded at Gabriel, "out of here."

Cas frowned regretfully but nodded once. He looked over at the Archangel. Gabriel looked almost bored, but Sam knew that was a façade. He was thinking. Planning, probably. Sam just hoped it was something good that wouldn't land him, or them, in hot water.

"It may be better if you come with me," Cas said gently.

"Not happening."

"We could use you."

"That's exactly why it ain't happenin'."

"Why?" Cas implored. "Why do you refuse to help us?"

Gabriel steeled himself, "I already told you, Castiel. I don't want to lead. That was never meant to be my purpose. Metatron's plan was to have _you_ do it. I was just fodder."

Sam frowned, "Wait, what?"

Cas shifted uncomfortably, gaze glancing from his brother to Sam and back. When Gabriel didn't expound further, clenching his jaw instead in an act of defiance, Castiel sighed and turned to face him.

"Earlier, when I mentioned the story Metatron wanted to tell me? He wants me to lead the angels against him. He... He tried to use Gabriel to convince me to do that."

Cas looked at the Archangel, "I thought you said you were tired of running."

Sam followed his gaze. Gabriel shrugged noncommittally. However, the expression on his face... Tired. Resentful. He _did_ want to stop running. But he wouldn't. Not while he was still in danger. And there was no telling how long he would _stay_ in danger.

No wonder he was so cynical.

"I think you forgot the part where I said I was reading a script."

Sam frowned.

"What do you mean a script?" He asked hesitantly.

At that time, Dean barged into the room, nearly smacking Cas with the door since the angel hadn't thought to take a few more steps into the motel. Cas shuffled forward quickly while Dean threw him an annoyed glare. Dean closed the door behind him and, most likely sensing the atmosphere, decided not to speak. Instead, his eyes scanned expectantly around him.

Gabriel frowned at him, sizing him up a bit - gauging to see what reaction to expect. When Dean did nothing but stare back, Gabriel decided it was okay to reply.

"Just what I said," Gabriel started. "A script. Y'know, like a play? 'All the world's a stage.'"

Castiel tilted his head a little, brows furrowing.

"'And all the men and women merely players,'" he parroted the quote.

Gabriel's eyebrow rose in appreciative surprise.

"Someone's been reading Shakespeare."

Cas fidgeted, "Something like that."

"Okay, I know I just walked in," Dean interrupted, holding a hand up, "but what the fuck are y'all talking about?"

Gabriel smiled pleasantly at Dean. It was kind of creepy.

"Metatron," he answered. "Havin' a bit of story time. Why not pull up a couch, eh, Dean?"

Dean looked suspiciously at the Archangel, eyes narrowed. He turned his head to stare at the couch past the bed. He refaced Gabriel.

"I'd rather stand, thanks."

Gabriel shrugged innocently, "Suit yourself."

"What does Shakespeare have to do with Metatron?" Castiel asked.

"Metatron _is_ Shakespeare. Figuratively, before you say anything, Castiel. He's pulling strings he has no business getting his grubby, little hands on."

"I'm not sure I'm following," Sam said.

"I'm definitely not following," Dean added.

Gabriel threw his head back. When he looked at them again, he was clearly unimpressed.

"I forgot y'all weren't the brightest bulbs in the bunch."

"Gabriel," Sam groaned.

"Look. Metatron's playing God. He's _not_ God, but he's pretty damn close. Because he has the Angel Tablet. I don't know how the hell he got his hands on it. I'm guessing _you,_" Gabriel glanced at Cas, "had something to do with that."

"Actually, it was Gadreel," Dean interjected, quick to defend his friend.

Gabriel rolled his eyes, "Whoever it was, it was a really dumb thing to do. Because Metatron's using it to do what came naturally to God."

"Which is?" Sam prompted.

"Writing."

Dean frowned, "What, like the Bible?"

"Close enough. The Winchester Gospels, to be precise."

The involuntary shudder that went through Sam and Dean was not missed by the angelic company in their midst. Castiel frowned. Gabriel smirked.

"He's influencing your stories. Making things happen against the Will. Except, there is no Will anymore. Not really. Which means: He's making you do things against _your_ wills. Our wills. Anyone and everyone. Most of the stuff I said to Castiel was something he made me say. I had the fortune of knowing I was being used as a puppet... You guys don't."

Sam frowned. His mind was working as hard as it could to try and understand what Gabriel was saying. Metatron was using the Angel Tablet to write...scripts? Scripts that influenced their wills. ...That influenced _them_. Made them do things that... What?

He gave Gabriel a confused, imploring look. The Archangel took one look at it and sighed.

"Fine. I'll use an example: Metatron writes down that I want chocolate cake, so I go eat some chocolate cake. And then it comes true."

"He's controlling us?" Dean questioned.

"In a manner of speaking." Gabriel shrugged, "I'm not entirely sure how it works myself. It's not absolute. Castiel was able to break the script Metatron had written because of a factual error in the little pocket reality I had made."

"Wait, you made that illusion?" Castiel questioned.

"Yup."

"Then... My ripped coat - ?"

"My doing. Like I said: I knew I was being played. He'd had me trapped in damn Holy Fire for weeks. Commanding me to pull the wool over your eyes? Yeah, I wasn't one-hundred percent down with it. I left the loophole on purpose. I'm just glad you caught on."

"Okay, well, how do _we_ know if we're being controlled?" Dean asked, anxiousness lacing his voice.

Gabriel frowned a little.

"You don't."

"Oh, well, that's just _peachy_," Dean snapped.

"It is what it is, Dean," Gabriel replied solemnly. "I don't like it any more than you do. But, as of now, I don't know how we can stop him."

Sam scrubbed his hand over his mouth. And here he'd thought the most terrifying thing Metatron could do was take Gabriel or kill Cas. No, turned out he was some wicked puppet master playing all of them.

At least with the Apocalypse they'd had a choice. Despite what the angels had said regarding their fate, they'd had a choice. They'd broken the script. But Metatron? How the hell could they stop him from writing a destiny for them?

Whatever messed up destiny he wanted them to have.

"We _really_ need to take the Tablet from him," Sam spoke up.

"Good idea!" Gabriel exclaimed cheerfully. "_How?_"

"I don't know, but it's better than nothing!" Sam snapped. "He cast out the angels, made himself God, and now he's, what, taking the angels back? Hoarding them in Heaven while he keeps the Gates closed? Souls still can't get in! And now - now he's writing a future for us? ...Whatever he's planning, he needs to be stopped, because it does _not_ sound good."

"Yeah, I really don't like being jerked around on a leash," Dean added, not doing a good job of hiding his distaste.

"We need to find the Door," Castiel said. "Now more than ever. He's got to have the Tablet close to him. I've been in his office; I know what it looks like. I should be able to find it again once in Heaven."

Gabriel huffed, "Mighty confident there, Cas."

Castiel's jaw tightened as he glared at the Archangel, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"You have a better idea?" He growled.

"Nope," Gabriel replied easily. "I'm just trying to point out that _realism_ is better than _idealism_. I want to stop the little creep just as much as you three bozos do, but we don't have the means. Or the know-how. We need to step back and _think_ before we act. Or do you want another mishap like you boys are prone to have?"

Sam sighed, rubbing his palms on his jeans. This was a mess. Worse than the bond. The hits just would not keep coming, would they? No, of course they wouldn't. Winchester curse, right?

"He's right," he admitted reluctantly. "We're working on fear right now. We need a plan. If we don't have one, we'll probably just fuck it up. Metatron's playing this game with a cool head; we need to have one, too."

"Man, this sucks," Dean growled, crossing his arms. He nodded towards Gabriel as he demanded, "And what the hell are we going to do with him?"

Cas frowned uncomfortably. Sam fidgeted, eyes leaving his brother to find Gabriel's. Gabriel, however, looked entirely too calm for the news that was about to be delivered to one not-so-happy Dean Winchester.

"I," Gabriel began jovially, "Mr. Grumpypants, will be traveling with _you._"

Dean was speechless. Immobile. His face frozen in the perfect picture of 'I can't believe the bullshit that just came out of your mouth.'

"No," Dean stated firmly, raising a finger.

"Mmm, yes."

"_No_," Dean stressed, glaring at the Archangel. "I've already had to put up with your Grace's bullshit, and now I have to deal with a possibly-psychic brother again. I am _not_ putting up with your ass, too. You're going with Cas. End of discussion."

"Since when did you have to _deal_ with me?" Sam demanded.

Dean gave him a look but didn't reply.

That set Sam's blood on fire, the corners of his mouth turning down as his nose flared in barely contained rage. God, he knew Dean hated any form of freakishness that came from him in the past, but... Just. Wow.

Okay, so maybe he'd lied to Cas when he'd said he didn't care what his brother thought. Because, right then? Oh, he cared. He cared a lot.

Unfortunately.

"Dean," Castiel cautioned, turning to face the Hunter completely. "You _need_ to take him with you."

"We've been over this, Cas" Dean almost hissed.

"I know. And I understand you're upset. But I have to meet up with the other angels that came here yesterday to make sure they're doing what was asked of them correctly. We can search for the Door, too. However, if Gabriel comes with me, he risks being found out. Ultimately, that may mean Metatron's wrath. Which, as we now know, can be easily executed. We can't afford to lose him. In the Bunker, he's safe. Metatron's reach does not extend there.

"You know I'm right, Dean."

Dean's jaw worked as he stared at Castiel, his gaze occasionally snapping to Gabriel and back.

As much as it burned_ more_ to admit, Sam knew Castiel was better at dealing with his brother when he was angry than Sam was. Especially recently, since Dean either refused to trust him or was just too _hurt_ to take Sam's opinions into consideration.

It was stupid and Sam hated it. Yet, he'd put up with it. He'd deal, as long as their chance at stopping this mess - as long as Gabriel - didn't get tossed to the curb because of Dean's stubbornness.

"I don't like it," Dean stated, resigned and resentful.

"You don't have to like it, Dean," Gabriel said. "I'm not really kickin' up my heels at the thought, either, in case you couldn't tell. But, like I said: It is what it is. You offer me sanctuary; I offer you whatever strength I got left. Within reason, of course. Unlike certain other angels who shall remain nameless."

Castiel frowned, looking over his shoulder at the Archangel. Sam had a funny feeling he wasn't whom Gabriel was talking about, though. Sam had... Well, he'd been remembering some things about Gadreel. When he'd been possessed. 'What strength I have left, I offer to you.' That's what he had said to Dean, in the beginning.

Sam wondered if Gabriel's Grace had picked up on those thoughts - those memories - too. If the Grace had then informed, or whatever it'd done, Gabriel when it had merged with him. Or, had Sam done it last night? However it had happened, there was a chance Gabriel knew.

Sam didn't know what to think about that. It made him vulnerable, after all, the Archangel knowing something personal like that. The Trickster had been known to use _personal_ against him. Then again, he had hope - probably naïve hope - that Gabriel would take his side of things.

"And how, exactly, can you help us out?" Dean challenged. "Last time you did - "

Gabriel's expression turned dark in less than a second. The small hairs on Sam's arms and the back of his neck rose. Like they were being affected by static.

Oh, please, don't do anything drastic, he thought. Please, don't smite Dean.

"You better not finish that sentence," Gabriel growled. "I _died_ for you, you ungrateful _dick_. I told you the way to stop Lucifer. I played my part."

"Yeah?" Dean snarked. "And then what? How long have you been alive?"

"Please, stop fighting," Castiel pleaded, looking at both.

"I don't owe you _anything_," Gabriel finished.

"Dean," Sam interrupted, trying to head off any further argument. "He helped. He can still help. The longer we stay here, the greater our chances of being caught are. _Please_. Lay it to rest."

Dean threw his hands up. He wasn't going to lay it to rest. But, he also didn't seem to want to pursue the argument with three people telling him off. If there was one thing he was good at, it was knowing how to pick his fights. Even amongst friends. Well, friends and one sorta-ally.

"Fine! Whatever. Me and Sam'll take him with us." Dean stared hard at Gabriel and pointed at him, "You fuck up my car, or you fuck with us, though? And, like I told your Grace: Your ass is grass."

Gabriel rolled his eyes but said nothing. He was itching to, Sam could tell, but he cleverly kept his mouth shut. Dean turned his attention back to Cas.

"And _you_ better hope that we find Metatron, and fast, because I can't guarantee I won't stake his ass just on principle."

"That doesn't work," Gabriel grumbled.

"On. Principle," Dean stressed, not looking away from Castiel.

Cas sighed through his nose, shoulders drooping slightly as he tilted his head. Dean looked around the room at all of them.

"Ride leaves in five," he stated.

Dean left. The room was silent for all of one second before Gabriel mimed strangling something as he whined. Sam faced him. The Archangel stared at him, eyes wide and jaw tense as he pointed angrily towards the door.

"How do you put up with that?" Gabriel demanded harshly.

Sam shrugged helplessly with his hands and shoulders. He let his palms slap against his thighs when he dropped them.

"It's Dean?"

"Yeah," Gabriel agreed, nodding. "That's kinda the problem."

"Gabriel," Castiel cautioned, earning the Archangel's frown. "Please, don't set him off."

"And why shouldn't I, hmm?" Gabriel questioned. "It's not like he's not going to do everything in his power to set _me_ off. What, I should just take and not give? I'm not really the turn-the-other-cheek type, bro."

"Gabriel: Don't."

The Archangel threw up his hands, much like Dean had not a minute earlier. Funny how the two that were constantly butting heads had certain similar characteristics. Like hardheadedness and an indomitable will. Funny how, given the current situation, both traits were faults.

"Fine! Fine. _Saint_ Gabriel it is."

Gabriel cut his eyes to the side. Sam'd seen that look before. He was feeling trapped and he didn't like it. If there was one thing worse than an antagonistic Gabriel, it was a Gabriel who felt backed into a corner. _That_ Gabriel was more unpredictable.

"Look," Sam started. "I know it's frustrating. Believe me, I do. I live with him, after all. But... He's dealing with some things right now, okay? Poking at him will just... It'll be counter-productive. Working with us - with him - may prove to him that you're not some gigantic asshole."

"I _am_ a gigantic asshole," Gabriel stated firmly, looking back to Sam.

Sam rolled his eyes, "I know that. Just. Humor me, alright?"

Gabriel sighed through his nose, biting at the inside of his lip. Soon, he shrugged in defeat.

Castiel turned his attention to Sam.

"I hate to ask it of you, but can you watch after _my_ brother, too?" He asked, only half joking.

Sam smiled a little, "Yeah. I think I can handle it."

Gabriel gave him a look that said he doubted it and that he was going to do everything in his power to make Sam eat his words. Sam still thought he could handle it. If he could deal with a sentient light bulb with an attitude that had broken free, not once but twice, he could probably deal with the Trickster. After all, it was easier to catch something in the shape of a man with no wings.

Castiel nodded and excused himself. Sam's guess was that he was going to do what he'd told Dean: Leave and meet up with the other angels.

In the back of his mind, he wondered if it was a good idea for Cas to do that. Not because he didn't trust him with the responsibility, but because of what they'd said Metatron's goal had been in Gabriel's illusion. If it was Metatron's wish for Cas to lead a faction of angels against him, if that's what he had written, wouldn't it just be playing into his plan to do so? However, it wasn't like they could _not _go against Metatron. He needed to be stopped. Somehow. They'd work on that soon enough.

First thing was first: Getting Gabriel to the Bunker.

"You ready?" Sam asked him.

"How long of a drive am I lookin' at?"

"Uh. Twelve? Maybe thirteen hours?"

"Then my answer is no. Come on."

Gabriel walked towards the motel door as Sam got to his feet. Sam looked around. The markings on the walls and the papers still crumpled on the floor, left discarded as they were no longer useful, would really raise questions with the housekeeping staff later. And probably the police, considering the content of what Castiel had been investigating. Too bad they didn't really have the time to get rid of that.

With a blink, all of it was gone.

Sam jolted in surprise, quickly glancing at Gabriel. The Archangel had a hand on the door handle, staring at Sam expectantly.

"You really sure you should be doing that?" Sam griped, still under the impression Gabriel wasn't as strong as he was letting on.

"Relax, Sam," Gabriel replied, opening the door and stepping out into the parking lot. "I told you I was fine."

"Actually," Sam said, "you said something about me doing more than giving you wings, but that was about it. What did you mean, anyway?"

They made their way towards the Impala. Dean was, naturally, in the driver's seat, engine already running as he drummed his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. The slight frown on his face only worsened when his eyes landed on Gabriel. If Gabriel saw it, he made no move to show it. Cas' car was missing. He hadn't waited long.

"Well, for one, I didn't literally mean you gave me wings."

"Kinda figured."

"Alright, Einstein. You can figure out the rest, then."

"No, I - _Gabriel_."

"You tampered with my Grace. Gave it a little boost. A _little_ boost, but a boost nonetheless. Add that on top of my body's natural healing and, well... _I'm good._"

It took a moment for Gabriel to open the car door he'd come to, staring down at it as if it'd personally offended him, but he did open it. The latch thumped open and the Archangel got in like he was used to it. Which, considering how long the angels had been on Earth, he probably _was_ used to traveling in cars by now.

Boy, that had to be an odd switch. From teleporting everywhere to having to use human vehicles and walking? Sam hadn't really given it much thought until now. It probably sucked. No wonder Gabriel didn't feel up to the ride. Well, that and Dean.

Sam opened the passenger's side door and was immediately met with Dean's raised hand. He didn't even manage to get a foot in.

"Ah!" Dean said.

He pointed towards the back with his thumb. Gabriel frowned at it.

"You're riding with him," Dean announced.

"What?" Sam asked in disbelief. "Seriously? Dean - "

"Ah-ah-ah! I don't wanna hear it. I already gave this speech to Cas and Crowley once. I don't want him tryin' somethin', so you're gonna make sure he doesn't. In the back, Sammy."

Sam groaned but obeyed, shutting the door with an added touch of annoyance. He didn't bother to wait to see if Gabriel would scoot over for him, he just walked around the car instead and got in on the left side. Gabriel was leaning forward in his seat a little, smirking mischievously at the side of Dean's face. Oh, boy.

"You sure that's a good idea, Dean?" Gabriel nearly purred. "What if I get a little _handsy?_"

Sam scowled at the Archangel while Dean scoffed and put the car in gear.

"Look, I don't care what you two do in your free time. I really don't," Dean stated.

"Don't mind a few stains on the leather then?"

"If you value whatever's between your legs at all, Gabriel, you will keep it in your pants while in my car," Dean replied as they turned onto the main road.

"It's called a penis, Dean. You should know what that is."

Sam held up his hands beside his head.

"O-kay! Can we not with the immature pissing contest, or whatever it is the two of you are doing?" He pointed at Gabriel, "And no touching without permission."

Gabriel looked downright affronted, placing his hand on his chest dramatically, "Sam! I would never!"

Sam merely squinted at him. He knew the Grace had learned to keep his metaphorical hands to himself, but he wasn't too sure about the real Gabriel. In any case, whether Gabriel made an unwanted move or not, Sam could take care of himself. He'd punched Gadreel in the face; he could punch Gabriel just the same.

"Any chance you two happen to hatch a plan after I left?" Dean asked.

Gabriel sat back against the seat, crossing his arms over his chest as he pouted at the window. Yeah, he wasn't going to tell Dean anything. Sam sighed.

"Not really, no," Sam admitted.

Dean hummed an affirmation and then turned on the radio. He made sure to turn it up to a decibel that said talking was prohibited. The corners of Sam's lips twitched downward as he shifted in the backseat.

He really didn't have a lot of leg room in the back. The music was almost grating, which was kinda the point he guessed. Every time he cut his eyes to look over at Gabriel, Gabriel was doing a good impression of a statue.

Only once did Sam catch Gabriel looking somewhere other than the scenery outside the car. And that was when he was looking at the radio, eyes squinted and mouth slightly askew. Sam knew what he was thinking. He swatted his hand at the Archangel, grabbing his attention, and mouthed at him to not do it.

Do not mess with the radio, for the love of Heaven. Dean would _not_ hesitate to leave Gabriel on the side of the road, usefulness be damned.

Gabriel made a face at him, an almost mocking snarl, and then he slid down in the seat, arms still crossed as his knees pressed into the bench seat before them. He looked like an overgrown child. For some very strange reason, it was almost endearing.

Sam mentally smacked himself in the head as he looked back out the window.

The drive was long. When wasn't a drive long when going across the United States? Especially in the West. But the atmosphere of the ride made it worse. Still no talking. Music too loud for Sam to fall asleep. Absolutely nothing else to do.

Roughly four hours in and Sam was losing it. Gabriel had been reduced to fiddling with his zipper on his jacket. Up, down, up, down. Not all the way, of course, just _enough_. Enough to make a racket. And Sam's brain had picked up on it despite the sound of AC/DC blaring from the car's speakers.

Eventually, he snapped, reaching over without looking to grab Gabriel's hands and squeeze. Hard. Enough to get the message across that, if Gabriel continued, there would be no saving him. He held his grip for a moment for added emphasis. Unfortunately, that was just enough time to give Gabriel an idea.

When Sam felt his hand being lifted upwards, he turned to look at the Archangel in confusion. Seeing his tongue sticking out and said hand being brought to it, Sam reacted on instinct. He yelped, jerking his hand away from Gabriel. Only...Gabriel held on. And Sam spent a few panic-stricken seconds trying, and failing, to get his hand away from Gabriel's still-threatening tongue.

"Don't make me come back there!" Dean threatened over the music.

Gabriel finally let go of Sam's hand, sitting back up from where he'd been dragged towards Sam. Sam huffed, wiping the back of his hand on his pants, even though Gabriel hadn't actually made contact with it. He glared at Gabriel. Gabriel didn't look at him, but the falsely innocent look on his face clearly meant he was pleased with himself. Asshole.

"So, Dean. We there yet?" Gabriel asked.

"Don't start, Gabriel."

"I gotta pee."

"You're an angel. You don't have to pee."

"Was hoping you'd forget that part."

"What? You want me to pull over somewhere so you can make a break for it? Fat chance."

"Yeah, like I can outrun Sam's freakishly long legs."

"Then why the hell do you want me to stop?"

"Because I'm bored!" Gabriel shouted. "I'm an Archangel trapped in the backseat of a car. For hours. I'm used to zipping wherever the hell I wanna go. I _need_ entertainment. And, so far, you two - " he gestured with his finger, " - have been _very_ helpful with that."

"Don't like my music?"

"No," Gabriel smiled. "More of an 80's man."

Dean scoffed, shaking his head. Sam raised his eyebrows briefly. That did kind of explain the song choices of the Trickster. His brow furrowed. One particular such song Sam still refused to listen to. He fidgeted.

"I don't know, Dean," he began, still speaking over the music. "I'm kinda hungry."

"Oh, come on, Sammy. Not you, too? I'd like to get _home_."

"We could use a bathroom break and my ass is starting to go numb. I have no room back here. Just pull over at the nearest gas station."

"Ugh. Fine!"

Okay, so he'd lied about his ass being numb, but he was being truthful about the other stuff. He hadn't had anything to eat since before they'd gone after Gadreel and his stomach was really getting onto him about that. His legs were also not so happy about their close quarters. Taking a short walk around the car was better than staying another six or seven hours in the same position with no break at all.

Gabriel wiggled triumphantly in his seat, smug smirk on his face. If Sam had been one-hundred percent truthful, he would have also mentioned that his main motivation had something to do with Gabriel's never-fading energy levels. Sam desperately wanted to give him that 'entertainment' he'd said he'd needed. He wouldn't stand the next set of noises the Archangel came to to occupy his time.

It was roughly twenty minutes, going by the switch in cassette tapes, before Dean pulled off the Interstate. The gas station was right beside the exit. Dean pulled up at a pump, parked, and shut the car off.

Dean turned around in his seat just as Sam's hand made it to his door handle. Sam paused as his brother looked at Gabriel and then him. Gabriel, too, had paused, in much the same position Sam was in.

"Alright, here's how this is gonna work," Dean began. "I'm gonna pump while you take a leak. We'll switch when you get back. _You_," he pointed at Gabriel, "are staying here."

"Oh, come on!" Gabriel exclaimed. "I'm going stir crazy in here!"

"Oh, boohoo," Dean mocked. "You're staying put. Go on, Sam."

Sam sighed, rolling his eyes. He looked over his shoulder at Gabriel as Dean exited the vehicle. The dark look Gabriel threw his brother did not bode well.

"Just..." Sam started quietly, gaining the other's attention, "try and not do anything until I get back?"

Gabriel pouted angrily, crossing his arms again as he thumped his back against the seat. When he turned away to glare heatedly at the seat in front of him, Sam got out.

It didn't take long for him to take care of his business. Just long enough for his brain to think of every worst case scenario he could come across when he looked back outside the store. The image of a smoking crater where the Impala had been crossed his mind a time or ten. He'd wanted to stretch his legs a bit, but, well... Imminent destruction of either of the two idiots outside kinda shot that idea down.

When he _did_ get around to leaving the store, nodding politely at the clerk has he did so, he was pleased to find that none of the things he'd thought up had happened. Dean was leaning against the back of the Impala, arms and ankles crossed, as he watched for Sam. The perfect vantage point to make sure Gabriel didn't try and bolt. Not that Sam thought he would, but Dean did.

As soon as they made eye contact, Dean pushed himself off the car and began to walk towards the store. He made sure to tell Sam to _not_ let Gabriel out of his sight or even let him out of the car. Sam merely agreed to avoid an argument. He may have been thinking of letting Gabriel step out of the car anyway. Or, at least open the door for some fresher air. As fresh as air full of cigarette smoke, gas, and oil could be.

Sam ducked into the backseat, not at all happy to be returning there, and slammed the door. He looked over at Gabriel. Gabriel was still pouting. He was a hair's breath away from fuming.

"You can open the door," Sam offered. "Stretch your legs, if you want."

"Pretty sure that's not what your dear ol' brother told you to do," Gabriel grumbled.

"Yeah, well. He's not here."

"Not going to caution me not to run off?"

Sam smirked, "Like you said: You can't outrun my freakishly long legs."

Gabriel huffed but some of the tension seemed to drain out of his body. He didn't open the car door, however. The two sat in silence for a moment. At first, it was comfortable. Until Sam started thinking about it and then it got a little uncomfortable.

"I meant what I said earlier," Gabriel spoke evenly.

Sam frowned in confusion as he looked over at him, "About what?"

"The-the touching thing," he clarified with a shrug. "I mean, I'm an asshole. Don't get me wrong. But..."

Gabriel trailed off, brow furrowing as he stared out the window. Sam watched him for a second, running his words through his head. He knew Gabriel probably _did_ want to explain what came after the 'but'. However, he also knew that emotional vulnerability didn't seem to be something Gabriel liked.

"Alright," Sam replied.

Another beat passed.

"And I meant what I - Well, not _me_, but I agree with what the Grace said, too."

Sam nodded slowly before asking, again, "About what?"

Gabriel drug his gaze from the gas pump outside his window and moved it towards Sam. He didn't completely face him, though. His eyes seemed to zero in on Sam's knee, instead.

"That I..." He hesitated. "That I shouldn't have done what I did. To you. Especially not the way I did it. ...And I'm... Sorry."

For some reason, one he didn't completely understand, Sam started to laugh. It bubbled up from somewhere near his diaphragm, traveled its way up, and came out of him as a helpless giggle. His eyes shut as they began to water and he continued to laugh. He heard Gabriel huff again.

Sam waved a hand towards him to try and indicate that he wasn't laughing at _him. _Though, he supposed, it could be interpreted that way. Maybe he _was_ laughing at Gabriel. But only because of the way he'd gotten the apology out. The way it had sounded. Sincere but also like it had been beaten out of him.

Soon, he got his chuckling under control. He wiped his eyes with the heels of his palm, opened them, and looked over at Gabriel. He snorted at the indignant pout on the other's face. Somehow, he'd reined in the next onslaught of giggles.

"Sorry," Sam murmured. He tried to wipe the smile off his face. "Apology accepted."

Gabriel narrowed his eyes at him.

"Was that _really_ so hard that you had to say it to my knee, though?"

Gabriel rolled his eyes and went back to looking out the window. Sam's grin found its way back. Momentarily. Before he realized he wanted to address something a little more serious. Okay, the apology had been serious, too, but that's not what he meant. He frowned a little.

"So, about this bond thing..." He prompted.

"What about it?" Gabriel mumbled towards the window.

"Uh. How's it... How's it going to change...us? Or me?"

Gabriel finally looked at him. He seemed bored.

"Frankly? I don't know."

"Oh. Oh, you don't know? 'Cause earlier you assured me it wasn't going to do anything bad," Sam said, aggravated.

Gabriel sighed, "It's not, Sam. It's not because it can't. Look. You were psychic for a time - "

"Because of Azazel's blood," Sam interrupted forcefully. "Which wasn't a good thing!"

"_No_," Gabriel stressed. His eyes cut to the ceiling as he tilted his head from side to side, "Okay, _yes._ Technically, you were psychic because of Azazel's shenanigans. But the powers you gained from him were your own. You ever wonder why all of his little _special children_ had different tricks up their sleeves?"

Sam frowned. Yeah. Yeah, he had. But, what difference did it make? Gabriel dropped his head for a second and then looked back up at Sam.

"The blood acted as a trigger. Gave your little mortal mind added incentive to do some fancy shit. I mean - I don't know how to shorten this.

"Psychics. Humans with special powers. Some are born with them switched on. Some aren't. But the switch is still there."

"So...Azazel just switched it on?"

"Yup. But there are a looot of switches. Think of it as a switch for every different power. Azazel's blood was a shot in the dark. There was no guaranteeing or predicting which kid got what power. _Or _how good they'd become. Which is why he had his little battle royales that you had the not-so-fortunate chance to take part in."

Sam shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the floorboard. He didn't like remembering that. The people like him all trapped in a ghost town. Killing each other just to survive. ...How he'd been killed because he didn't _want _to kill.

And then Dean...

He cast the thoughts aside and looked back up at Gabriel.

"And this-this bond just, what, did the same thing?" He asked, not sure if he was understanding.

"Eh," Gabriel shrugged a shoulder. "More like it gave the switch the electricity it needed to work the light bulb again."

"So," Sam shifted a little to better face Gabriel, hands raising so he could use them to help illustrate his ideas, "I was psychic, and then Azazel died, and the... electricity went away. But the switch was still in the on position, so all it needed was electricity again to-to do its job, or whatever?"

Gabriel frowned a little, "I hate to bring up a touchy subject, but why do you think Ruby told you you had it in ya the whole time?"

A chill ran down Sam's spine, his eyes widening slightly.

"I don't wanna end up like that. Not again," he said quickly.

"_You won't_," Gabriel stated firmly. He shook his head once, "Not if you don't want to. And there's no pesky addiction to have to deal with when it comes to the bond, either. At least that's a plus, huh?"

"And it'll fade, right? The bond. If we don't do the dream walking thing? And then the powers will just fade away again?" Sam asked shakily.

Gabriel paused before answering, "It should."

The Archangel turned from him and sat back against the seat.

Sam was nervous now. Uncertain. Earlier, Gabriel had said he'd _hoped_ the bond would fade if they left it alone. Now, he was saying it should, but he didn't believe that.

"You hesitated," Sam stated. "You don't know."

Gabriel threw up his hands in helplessness. He looked back over at Sam, actual honesty reflecting in his eyes.

"No, okay? I don't know. Wish I did!

"Don't take this the wrong way, Sam, but I really don't wanna be saddled with you, either. I kinda - I kinda like my privacy, y'know?

"Thousands of years with it? Solitude kinda becomes the norm."

Gabriel looked away again, lips turned down as he did so. There was a sort of...melancholy that could be attributed to the look. An offshoot of the look that Gabriel had given when he'd first told Sam that Sam didn't have to use the bond if he didn't want to.

Sam studied the Archangel. The corner of his lips twitched upwards just for a second.

"You're a really bad liar, y'know that?" Sam asked, almost cheekily.

Gabriel blinked slowly, moving his head to stare blankly at Sam.

Movement in his peripheral caught Sam's attention. He looked away from Gabriel, spotting Dean almost a foot away from the car. In his hands was a bag of stuff. Sam frowned. One of the objects almost looked like a phone book.

The Impala's door opened with a satisfying creak - a sound his brother refused to get rid of with some WD-40 - and Dean half-sat, half-flung himself down into the driver's seat. Both Sam and Gabriel looked at the plastic bag expectantly as Dean started to dig around in it. Sam didn't know why Gabriel was curious, other than he was Gabriel, but _he_ smelled food.

"For someone who complained about being hungry," Dean began, pulling out a foil-wrapped burger that he then handed to Sam, "you sure did a good job of forgetting to get food."

Sam frowned a little as he took the burger.

"Well, I was kinda more worried about leaving you two alone and coming back to a smoldering crater," Sam admitted.

He wasn't too thrilled that his breakfast, lunch, whatever it would be called, was a greasy, slightly gross tasting, double cheeseburger. Yet, he was ninety-percent sure that gas stations really didn't handle salads. He began to unwrap his food as Dean reached into the bag to pull out whatever book thing he'd gotten.

Sam's burger was halfway to his mouth when he looked at the cover of the book. He paused.

It was a coloring book. A very thick coloring book of _My Little Pony_. He slowly lowered his burger and looked cautiously over at Gabriel. Gabriel was simply staring at the book like he wasn't entirely sure why it was being shoved in his direction.

Dean wiggled the book for Gabriel to take. He then reached into the bag, pulled out a small, brand new box of crayons, and plopped them onto of the coloring book.

"Take it," he said easily. "For your 'lack of entertainment.'"

Gabriel looked up from the book to stare at Dean, mouth slightly open in disbelief. He scoffed and shook his head.

"What, you couldn't get me Dora instead?"

"All out," Dean replied, exaggerated smile gracing his lips.

Much to Sam's surprise, Gabriel took the coloring book from Dean. He didn't open it, however, or move the crayon box off it. He just thumped into the seat behind him and grumpily glared out the window. Pleased with himself, Dean turned back to face the front, starting the car and putting it into gear.

Relieved that nothing bad was going to result from Dean's really shitty sense of humor, Sam went back to eating. Dean turned the radio back on. And, though he turned down the volume just a notch, Sam got the feeling that neither his brother nor Gabriel was going to start a conversation anytime soon.

It was roughly an hour before Sam heard the sound of a cardboard box opening. (Long after Sam had finished his meal and crumpled the foil up, placing it in his pocket because - God forbid - he litter in Dean's car.) Covertly glancing over at the Archangel, he watched as Gabriel flipped through the coloring book, box of crayons already opened.

Gabriel stopped on a page of a winged pony. Sam didn't know if that was intentional, an attempt to be funny and ironic, or if Gabriel had just let chance take the wheel. Either way, he reached into the crayon box, pulled out a yellow, and began to color in the horse's mane.

Two hours after that, Gabriel had finished about five pages in the coloring book. Sam was astonished that the act of coloring could actually hold the other's attention for as long as it had. He was surprised that Gabriel had yet to do anything obscene with his artwork. ...And he was slightly annoyed every time he caught himself watching the other as he colored. Any time he did, he'd snap his gaze back out the window. And it somehow found its way back.

Four hours had Gabriel making noises with his mouth. When Sam got onto him for that, he started making noises with his thumb, tapping it against the coloring book. When Sam got onto him for _that,_ not only did he make a point to throw Sam a sour glance, but he started to tap his foot. After that, Sam gave up.

Five hours gave them another break, curtesy of the Impala's fuel tank. Sam pumped the gas this time while Dean went to take care of business. Sam opted against another bathroom break. Instead, he slid back into his seat and addressed Gabriel, who had set his book and crayons aside and slumped down with his knees, once again, against the seat in front of him.

"We should tell Dean," Sam said.

Gabriel blinked languidly, "Is this like charades? Am I supposed to guess what we're tellin' him? Oh, oh! Wait! I got it! Is the answer: He's a jerk?"

Sam stared at him blankly.

Gabriel took one look at the expression and sighed.

"The fancy powers?"

"Yeah."

"I'd rather not, thanks."

"If we keep it a secret - "

Gabriel held up a hand, "Ooh, believe me. I already know all about the Winchesters and their knack for lying to each other's faces. But, Sam, the problem here is that your brother wants to stab me in the face, and I kinda like my face, so telling him something that's gonna set him off is not something I wanna do."

Sam paused, "Really? Because you seemed really eager to get under his skin a few hours ago."

"There's a difference between being a mild annoyance and the guy responsible for," he used air quotes, "'ruining' his brother."

Sam scoffed, looking away. But Gabriel had a point. As Dean had mentioned in the motel room: His brother had to _deal_ with him whenever he acted like a freak.

That didn't change anything, though.

"It'll be worse if they get stronger and he finds out _then_," he mumbled.

When he looked over at Gabriel, the Archangel was in the process of rolling his eyes. Somehow, even with the position he was in, he managed to look a little defeated.

"Fine," he spat. "But you're doing it. Preferably with me outta the room. And away from any pointy objects. Especially silver ones."

Sam frowned, "An angel blade won't kill you."

"Don't mean it won't hurt like Hell. What? You seriously think I get stabbed by one o' those and I'll shrug it off all, ''Tis but a scratch!' _Nooo._"

Sam snorted, smiling a little. He wasn't surprised that Monty Python was something Gabriel had taken the time to see. He frowned a little. However, now he was wondering about the accuracy of the Holy Grail myths. Before he could launch into an interrogation just to sate his curiosity, Dean exited the gas station.

Their trip resumed.

By the time they arrived at the Bunker, it was almost eight in the evening.

Sam was exhausted. Not just mentally but physically, as well. Even Gabriel had lost all energy he'd had that morning. If Sam hadn't known better, he would have been sure that the Archangel had fallen asleep with his eyes open during the last hour of the trip. Dean, for some reason, almost seemed right as rain. Sam was jealous.

"Home, sweet home!" Dean announced, chipper.

The zombie-like moans he received from the back only caused him to frown. He glared into the backseat.

"What the hell's y'all's problem?" He asked.

Then he spotted Gabriel's knees pressed into the front seat. He swatted at them, earning a yelp from the Archangel and a glare. Gabriel wriggled back up to sit in his seat properly. Sam discreetly pulled himself away from Dean's seat, as well.

"Thirteen hours, Dean," Sam groaned. "No sleep. Yeah, we're kinda tired."

Dean scoffed, opening his door and getting out of the Impala. Sam followed, grunting a little when he finally got to stretch his legs. Sure, he was in pretty good condition physically, what with the running he did, but _that_ long of a car ride? Anyone's joints wouldn't be too thrilled afterwards. When Gabriel got out, Sam was a little surprised to see him carrying his coloring book and crayons.

"I don't need to sleep and I wanna sleep," Gabriel complained, shaking his legs and then hopping in place once.

Dean frowned at him. Sam, however, went to the trunk to get their things. He was a tad resentful Dean was too busy focusing on Gabriel to remember his bag was in the back, too. Sam grabbed both, one on each shoulder, and joined the others.

"Wow," Dean mocked, walking towards the entrance of the Bunker. "Alert the presses. The great Archangel Gabriel can't stomach an old, American pastime."

Gabriel hummed pleasantly, a phony smile directed at the back of Dean's head. It was the perfect look to convey, 'I want to stab you but I can't.' He and Sam followed Dean down the concrete steps and to the Bunker door. Dean pulled the key from his pocket. He hesitated before putting it in the lock, however. Instead, he turned to look at Gabriel.

"Fuck with anything - "

"Stab. Yeah. Got it, Rambo," Gabriel answered, clearly unimpressed.

Sam huffed. And here he'd thought the car ride was annoying. He was just now coming to appreciate, and dislike, the fact that he was going to be stuck in the Bunker with these two and their ever-simmering feud. Yay.

Dean didn't retort. He finally opened the door.

The Bunker was, naturally, in the same state they'd left it. Sam walked down the staircase behind Dean, Gabriel behind him. His main focus was dropping their bags on the map table in the center of the foyer. As such, he failed to notice Gabriel's reactions.

Until he happened to catch Dean's double take when he passed him to drop their supplies on the table. Removing the straps from his shoulders, Sam turned to look at the Archangel.

Gabriel's brow was furrowed, his lips puckered, as he stood just at the end of the stairs. His eyes raked over the machines on the walls, the map, the entrance to the library portion of the Bunker. He nodded once.

"I'm having a really weird feeling of Déjà vu," he commented uneasily.

"Yeah, well," Dean replied, "your Grace was kind of a pain in our asses for almost a month, so. Scenery _should_ be a little familiar."

Gabriel ignored the jab, finally walking over towards them.

"Gotta admit, boys: This place is impressive. A little too impressive."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, trying to ignore the fatigue in his whole body.

"I mean that I'm suspicious of your precious Men of Letters," Gabriel remarked, placing his book and crayons beside their bags.

"You?" Dean asked in disbelief. "The Trickster? An Archangel? Worried about some dusty tomes and old relics a bunch of nerds collected and hid away from the world?"

Gabriel cut his eyes to look at Dean, "In case you've forgotten, my _Horn_ was in this place. Also? There's an angel banishing sigil on the floor over there," he nodded towards one of the center pillars.

"And?"

"What the hell were they doing that made them knowledgeable about a species Hunters didn't even think existed until a few years ago _and_ why were they worried that they'd have to protect themselves from said species?"

"He has a good point," Sam said. "I don't know about suspicious, but it's curious in any case."

Dean shrugged, "Whatever. I don't care."

Sam returned the shrug.

"Look," he began. "I'm tired. I'm going to bed. Dean, you take care of the supplies. I hauled them in here."

He took two steps before Dean was calling him back.

"Ho, ho," Dean stressed. He pointed at Gabriel, "You're takin' him with you."

"What?" Sam asked as he tried to wrap his mind around the ridiculousness of that command.

Gabriel frowned at Dean.

"I'm not down with letting _Gabriel_ run around the Bunker unattended. And I sure as hell don't want him in my room -"

"What makes you think I want him in mine?"

"Sam. Don't make me answer that."

Gabriel was trying, and failing, to keep his face neutral. Sam could see how awkward the conversation was making him.

Sam rolled his eyes, raising his arms and then letting them drop to his sides.

"Fine!" He exclaimed. "Fine. Unlike _you_, I don't get bothered by people watching me sleep."

Gabriel frowned, eyes cutting to the side as he tilted his head just a little. He seemed confused and slightly concerned about Sam's statement. Dean nodded slowly, eyes still trained on Sam.

"That was a brilliant comeback, Sammy," he joked.

Sam clenched his jaw, refusing to say anything else, and turned on his heel. He didn't bother to check and see if Gabriel was following him. He stormed all the way to his room. He was tired, he was cranky - thanks to his oh-so-considerate brother - and he actually _did_ have a little bit of an issue with people creepily staring at him while he slept.

But whatever. A good night's sleep would get rid of more than half of his problems, so that's what he was going to focus on.

Gabriel _was_ following him. He could hear the other's footsteps on the hard floor under their feet. When he reached his room, he turned to notice that Gabriel had picked up his coloring book and crayons before he'd come along. Well, at least that solved the staring issue.

Once in his room, Gabriel went straight for the chair, plopping down with a little too much gusto.

"And your brother gets onto _me_ for being the paranoid one," the Archangel muttered.

Sam grunted, stripping off his brown jacket. Gabriel snorted. Sam glared over his shoulder at him, yet Gabriel's barely-concealed grin was aimed towards the brilliantly colored ponies of his coloring book instead of Sam.

"Get your head out of the gutter," he grumbled, moving on to remove his shirt.

"Would if I could, kiddo," Gabriel replied, amused. "But, in case you haven't noticed, I typically have the emotional maturity of a frat boy."

"Explains the janitor career."

"Ha! Well-played."

Gabriel didn't say anything after that. He made no more unwanted noises about Sam's state of undress. Finally in his sleeping clothes, Sam faced the Archangel. He was a little surprised to see the other staring intently at the television. He had been, honestly, expecting Gabriel to have been watching him. Gabriel did kind of have a reputation, after all.

"Right," Sam began. "So, I don't care what you do as long as, y'know..."

"No touchie. Of any kind. And I'm assuming I'm not allowed to make any loud noises, either. Wouldn't be smart, considering there's a pistol under your pillow."

Sam frowned, "How'd - "

"Elementary, my dear Watson."

Sam paused as he nodded.

"You do know that's not really ever said in those books, right?"

Gabriel finally turned to look at him.

"Go to sleep, Sam," he said. "I'm not going to do anything you don't want. Told you that before."

Sam nodded again, this time in confirmation. He shifted awkwardly and then climbed into bed. When he glanced over at Gabriel, he had returned to staring at the screen. Sam wouldn't be all that surprised if he woke up with it on. He'd become very accustomed to the restlessness of the Archangel, after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I apologize for the intensity of plot building in this chapter but, well, they had to plan and get ducks in a row.**

* * *

When Sam woke up, it was after one hell of a dream.

It hadn't been lucid. Which wasn't what he'd expected. After all, he'd gotten used to the Grace walking into his dreams, so he'd thought Gabriel would do the same. He hadn't, obviously.

The content of the dream was hard to figure out. With how often it'd jumped around, Sam was surprised he remembered any of it. There'd been angels, he remembered. Lucifer had been there. For some reason, Sam hadn't felt frightened of him.

Sam always felt frightened of him...

The dream had been populated by a lot of people he didn't know but he felt he knew. Nothing unusual for a dream, really.

He'd interacted with them. Had some fun. But it was with a more distant feeling of happiness. Something always felt_ off _to him. Like...he always wondered why he was feeling what he was. Because, sometimes, what dream-him laughed at or did wasn't really that great. So, why'd he do it? It didn't make any sense.

And he was all over the place. Forest. Mountain. Beach. He'd probably been to every biome that existed at least once.

He hadn't been too fond of the colder climates, yet he was there more often than he liked. Why? Why put up with it? He didn't know. But, it was a dream. Was he supposed to know?

Scrubbing a hand across his face, Sam looked around his room for Gabriel.

The Archangel was nowhere to be found. His coloring book and crayons were missing. The TV _was_ on, though muted and showing a wonderful screen of static.

Sam groaned and buried his face in the mattress. He really hoped Gabriel had left because he'd sensed Dean up, or something, because, otherwise, there was going to be a confrontation. One that Sam didn't want to hear or deal with.

His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten anything since yesterday. Early yesterday.

Moaning petulantly, Sam pushed himself up and got out of bed.

He grabbed a change of clothes, mentally beat himself up over the fact he'd left his toothbrush and such in the duffle he'd left on the table, took a shower anyway, and made his way to the kitchen. He debated whether or not he wanted coffee or some toast and jelly. Maybe both. He wasn't one-hundred percent certain that the milk in the fridge was still good. In fact, he was only, like, fifty-percent certain.

He wondered what coffee and toast and jelly would taste like.

Then, he paused as he looked up at the fridge and his mental process snapped to what was _on_ the fridge.

Crayon-colored ponies were on the fridge. Four of then, to be precise. A blond and white one, a blue and black one, a tan and green-eyed one, and a mostly brown one. And on each of these ponies was a name scrawled in amazingly-fancy lettering: Sam, Dean, Castiel, and Gabriel.

Sam tilted his head as he stared at the coloring pages.

He was at a loss for what to think. The sense of humor meant was obvious. The fact that Gabriel had stuck the pictures up on the fridge was, most likely, a dig at Dean for giving him the book in the first place. But, then there was the fact that Gabriel had added himself into the bunch.

Sam wasn't so much offended at the idea as he was saddened by it. Because he wasn't entirely sure Gabriel was with them. Not in the long-haul sense.

Of course, there was also the fact that _last time_ he'd helped them out...

Dean walked into the kitchen. Sam looked at him from over his shoulder. His brother only glanced at the drawings before frowning in disgust.

"Yeah. Real cute, ain't it?" He griped.

He had a coffee cup in his hand. A cup he stopped at the maker to refill. He was still wearing his ridiculous bathrobe. He mustn't have been up long.

Sam _really_ hoped Gabriel hadn't skirted past Dean to wherever the hell he was. Because Sam did _not_ have a good explanation for why the Archangel wasn't right on his heels.

He shrugged nonchalantly, "I don't know. I think the cowboy hat yours is wearing is kinda fitting."

Dean scoffed, "Leave my 'fetish' out of it."

Sam smirked. Deciding on toast and jelly, he finally opened the fridge.

"Oh, and, get this," Dean continued, turning around, coffee in hand. "They won't come off."

"What?" Sam pulled out the jelly jar and the half-gone loaf of bread. "Did he superglue them on, or something?"

"No," Dean took a sip of coffee and swallowed. "As far as I can tell he's used some sort of angel mojo on it. I've tried everything to rip those damn things off. They're more stubborn than he is."

Sam nodded in agreement. Gabriel was that. Stubborn. Sometimes, not even intentionally. Though, he was pretty sure this time there was intention.

Sam made his toast. Dean didn't say anything after that, just sort of watched him while he continued to lean up against the table the coffee maker was on. Sam tried not to let it bother him. He failed. He had a good hunch what Dean was going to ask him about and he was dreading it.

Dean followed him out of the kitchen and into the small, adjacent room where the dining table and chairs were. He waited until Sam sat down to ask what had, no doubt, been running around his mind.

"So," he drawled. "Gabriel..."

Sam feigned ignorance as he hummed curiously while chewing his food. He looked up at Dean, eyebrows raised. Dean blinked. Then he licked his lips.

"You two... Do anything... Last night?"

Sam wrinkled his brow as he shook his head. Okay, yeah. That hadn't actually been what he thought Dean was going to ask. He was banking on, 'Where's Gabriel?' Sam swallowed his bite and looked back up at Dean.

"No?" He half-asked. "Why-why...? _What?_"

It was Dean's turn to look a tad confused.

"I thought you two were like," he motioned with his hand, "a _thing_."

Sam nodded slowly in disbelief.

"No," he answered genuinely.

Dean frowned, "Oh, come on! You and the Grace - "

Sam held up a hand, "Was the Grace. Trust me: There's a difference. Nothing's going on between me and Gabriel. So...you can stop thinking about it."

Dean nearly pouted, and Sam was pretty sure it had to do with the fact he was wrong about something. After all, he couldn't see why Dean would be bummed if he wasn't in a relationship with someone Dean despised.

"By the way," Dean began, turning his attention back to Sam, "when did Gabriel leave your room last night?"

Sam nearly choked on the bite he'd just taken.

"Uh," he replied eloquently.

"Nice, Sammy."

"I need to sleep sometime, Dean. I really don't know what you expected would happen," he explained. "You can't pin him down, anyway. He's an Archangel. One with a mind of his own."

"Holy Fire seemed to work last time."

Sam took a deep breath and looked at his brother sternly.

"Don't you dare," Sam commanded. "He's been through enough shit. And do you _really_ want to get on his bad side? Just because he's agreed to help us now doesn't mean he won't turn on us _if_ you threaten him."

Dean scoffed and looked away. Sam didn't miss how his hands tightened around his coffee cup. He was probably envisioning Gabriel's neck.

"Man, this sucks."

Sam refused to comment. He didn't want to get into a heated argument. It was too early in the morning, for one thing. However, as he was finishing his first piece of toast, he remembered what he'd told Gabriel in the car the day before. About telling Dean about the bond.

A feeling of dread traveled through his veins like ice. But, as he'd told Gabriel, Dean had to know. Now. Before anything weird happened and his brother exploded after having been lied to. Again. A heated argument would look like a mild disagreement if that happened.

"Um," Sam hesitated, smacking his hands free of crumbs. "So, I asked Gabriel about the bond."

"Yeah, what the hell's that all about?" Dean prompted, grumpily.

"Well, y'know how Gabriel made that slightly weird analogy about me being a water fountain?"

"Uh-huh."

"Let's just say...there's a possibility that...if water keeps getting poured into me, I could keep...running?"

Sam stared uneasily at his brother. Dean blinked at him. Yeah, he hadn't understood what Sam had said. Sam kind of didn't understand it himself.

"Mind speaking English?" Dean asked.

"Okay. Let's try the electricity one. Think of the bond like the wires in a circuit. Gabriel's the battery; I'm the bulb. If the wires aren't cut and I keep pulling power from the battery...I'll keep glowing."

"Uh-huh."

"And I may just start to glow brighter?"

Dean tilted his head. He frowned. He opened and shut his mouth. He shook his head. He, finally, pointed at Sam with vague comprehension.

"So, what you're saying is: If y'all keep using this weird ass bond thing, those little psychic powers Gabriel mentioned - the dream walking - will not only stay around but will get _worse?_"

Sam shrugged, "I wouldn't say 'worse' but there's a possibility that they'll strengthen, or that I might get more. Like, how with Azazel I started with visions and then there was that one instance of telekinesis."

Dean nodded, "Oh. Oh, great. Like Azazel. Because that's just - "

"Dean," Sam stressed. "I know. I don't want to be a freak anymore, either. But Gabriel's already told me that the bond isn't detrimental. Like, there's no... there's no addiction, for one thing. And he's said that, if I don't use it, maybe the powers will just... shrivel up and go away, or something."

Okay, so that hadn't been _exactly_ what Gabriel had said. He'd inferred that Sam's psychic abilities had always been there, just remained dormant. However, Sam wasn't going to tell Dean _that_. It wasn't relevant, really. Non-working powers weren't dangerous, for one thing. For another, he didn't want to hear Dean rant about how he's been traveling with a time bomb, or something equally stupid and inflammatory.

"Well, at least that's a plus," Dean grumbled. "Just don't use the bond and everything will be fine. Back to normal, for the most part."

Yeah. Back to normal. As if there ever was such a thing in their lives.

Dean excused himself, remarking about how he was going to get dressed and then hunt down the Archangel. Not literally, much to his chagrin. Sam was left to eat his toast and jelly in peace. Sort of. If he didn't count the fact that his mind was whirling at a thousand miles a minute.

He was warring with himself, he realized. On the one hand, he didn't want to be psychic. He didn't want the hassle that came with that. On the other... Well, he'd always been curious in nature. That's why he'd always stuck to his guns when it came to schoolwork. He loved learning. Unfortunately, that desire to learn also spread to figuring out just what he could do if he _did_ continue to draw off the bond - if he continued to exercise his powers.

Lucid dreaming might be an extension of his psychic abilities, he realized. He was used to it, he'd told Gabriel. It happened frequently compared to some.

He hadn't had a psychic vision since Azazel, but... Maybe, with the bond, he could tap back into it. He hated them, of course. Hated how real they could seem. However, they had also been useful. They could use useful right now.

He huffed a quiet laugh to himself as he cleaned up his mess.

He was like Neo. Wondering if he should take the red or blue pill.

Finished with his food, Sam headed towards the library. He intended to get his duffle bag. His laptop was in it and he wanted to see if he could use it to get a lead on Metatron or Gadreel.

Technically, that was Castiel's job, but Sam was still worried about the whole 'living a script' thing. They'd done that once before. It hadn't ended well. With him aiding Cas' search, even if only for half of his research time, maybe they could find a lead much faster. It only seemed logical, right?

However, when Sam entered the library, he spotted Gabriel sitting at the map table. Sam's laptop was in front of him. He was lazily scrolling through something, eyes darting back and forth like he was reading. Sam was afraid to know what.

He was also slightly annoyed.

He remembered what happened to the last laptop Gabriel's influence had gotten to.

Sam walked quickly over to the Archangel, hoping and praying that his dear piece of technology would not be horribly ruined. Or defiled.

"What are you doing?" He demanded tartly.

Gabriel didn't look up from the screen. Nor did he bother to stop scrolling or stop reading whatever he was.

"Research," he mumbled, the hand he was resting his head on slightly masking his speech.

Sam frowned. Okay, well, that was a plus. He expected something far less helpful and a lot more Gabriel. He certainly wasn't going to complain that Gabriel was taking initiative. Perhaps the Archangel was actively going to try and help them this time. It _was_ in his best interest, after all.

Sam shuffled forward a bit so that he could lean over and peek at what Gabriel was reading.

Gabriel was going entirely too fast for him - perks of being an angel, Sam assumed - but the tidbits he did catch mentioned him. By name. And Sam's name. And a lot of scenery exposition that sounded a lot like the Mystery Spot.

Wait.

Lightning fast, Sam lunged forward, colliding with Gabriel as he did so, to snatch his laptop off the table. The Archangel squawked in protest as his head bounced off Sam's chest. Once the laptop was secured, Sam stepped back and shut the screen with a definitive snap.

"Still not fond of other people touching your laptop?" Gabriel asked as he rotated in the chair to stare at Sam.

He had a small, disapproving frown on his face. Sam really didn't care.

"Why were you reading that crap?" He questioned harshly.

"Thought I already answered that question," Gabriel replied easily.

"Research for what?" Sam snapped.

"Relax, kiddo. I have it on good authority that Metatron used dear ol' Chuck's books to gain his," Gabriel rolled his eyes in disgust, "_inspiration_ when it came to me and my characterization. I was just curious to see what the prophet wrote."

"Why? You were there."

Gabriel smiled pleasantly, "We both know there's two sides to any story. Or three. Four. However many characters the author's writing for. As such..."

The Archangel trailed off, staring expectantly at Sam. Sam hadn't a clue what Gabriel was fishing for. When Gabriel realized that, he sighed.

"There might be information in those books that none of us know personally, but that don't mean it ain't relevant."

Sam slowly loosened his death grip on his laptop as he lowered it.

That made sense. Becky had been the one to tell them that the Colt hadn't been given to Lilith but to Crowley. Something Sam and Dean hadn't known. However...

"These books stop after I was thrown into the Cage, though. What good is looking at them going to be?"

Gabriel shrugged, "Never _hurts_ to look. But, hey. You're right. I'm probably wasting my time. ...And Metatron _really_ sucks at writing me."

Sam frowned again, "Is that all you did after you snuck outta my room?"

"Nope. Went snooping around the Bunker. If the Men of Letters hadn't been such pacifists, they woulda been dangerous." Gabriel smirked, "And if you two even knew half the stuff at your disposal _and_ how to use it, _you'd_ be dangerous, too."

"I wouldn't get too cocky," Dean's voice said from behind Sam.

Sam turned to see his brother dressed, a disapproving scowl on his face. Naturally, it was aimed towards Gabriel. As he approached, Dean folded his arms across his chest.

"We're pretty good on our own. Know how to deal with you, in any case."

"Dean," Sam cautioned.

"Ooh," Gabriel cooed sarcastically. "Quakin' in my boots, Dean."

"Gabriel," Sam warned.

It was weird having to get onto both of them at the same time. Sam did not look forward to the future. And he certainly didn't appreciate being made into the chaperone of two, fully-grown men.

"Where the hell have you been?" Dean questioned the Archangel, deciding against an argument.

Or, at least, to move on to a different one. Sam frowned at the idea.

Gabriel puckered his lips, "Mmm, around."

"Yeah. I got that. What the hell were you doing?"

Gabriel sighed loudly, slumping in his chair, "Y'know, if you two would stay up each other's asses more than you already do, I wouldn't have to repeat myself."

Dean looked at Sam. Sam looked at Dean. Both shifted uncomfortably at the same time. After all, the elephant in the room was that their relationship was still on shaky ground. When Sam looked back at Gabriel, the Archangel was frowning slightly as his eyes darted between the two of them. Oh, great.

"Uh-huh," Gabriel said. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Yeah," Dean grinned sardonically. "Paradise is _on Earth_, and it's kinda makin' a mess of things. We're trying to fix that, remember? You're supposed to be helping us. And, instead, you're..._around_."

Gabriel hummed. He was very nonchalant in the face of that accusation.

"Alright," Gabriel began, "I'm just going to go ahead and get this out of the way: I'm not going to hold you boys' hands. I said I'd _help_, not that I'd _sweep up your mess_."

"Funny, I think I've heard that phrase from you before."

"You have. Point still stands."

"Okay," Sam interrupted, gaining their attention. He looked at Gabriel, "No one's asking you to wave your hand and make it all go away. I mean, I'm pretty sure you couldn't do that even if you wanted to."

Gabriel smiled ruefully. Sam was right, then. The Fall _had_ weakened Gabriel more than he was letting on. He'd still be a formidable opponent, most likely, but he didn't seem to be anywhere near the strength he had been before.

"All we need from you is a direction or-or some info on how Heaven's Gates work. Where this Door is. We can pull our own weight. We've done it before."

Gabriel seemed to be mulling Sam's words around. Probably thinking if it was worth it or not. It was in his best interest, of course, but Gabriel also had a habit of kicking and screaming about a plan he didn't like. Sometimes, Sam wondered if Gabriel was the spoiled sibling of the Archangels. He was definitely the most immature.

"Fine," Gabriel said eventually. "Though, you might wanna sit. Kinda a long story."

Sam looked at Dean. When Dean nodded to him, they both walked to the table. Sam sat beside Gabriel, Dean sat across from Sam. A good thing, too, because Sam was pretty sure chaos would have ensued had Dean sat across from Gabriel. It probably would have started with a not-so-flirtatious game of footsie and then...

Once they had seated, Gabriel shifted so he could better see both of them. Sam placed his laptop on the table, making sure to shove it away from Gabriel. The Archangel smirked a little at him because of it. Sam narrowed his eyes in return.

"So." Dean said, wiggling in the hard chair to get comfortable. "Stairway to Heaven."

"Well, for one, there's no such thing," Gabriel made sure to clarify.

The blank stare Dean gave him clearly indicated how much he cared.

"For another, there's not even a _door, _really."

"Then how do we get in?" Sam questioned, confused.

"Oh, there's a way in. It's just not a door. What Metatron's using is a spell designed to punch a hole into Heaven that then seals as soon as you pass through."

"Okay, great," Dean commented. "What's the spell?"

"I ain't got a clue," Gabriel replied.

"Oh. Wonderful."

"Even if I did, you need to know where the weak spot in the fabric of Heaven is to even use it. And, I can guarantee ya: Metatron keeps moving that."

"Okay, well, not to be rude, Gabriel, but," Sam began, "exactly _how_ can you help us?"

Gabriel shrugged, "I add humor. I'm easy on the eyes."

It was Sam's turn to stare blankly at the Archangel. Dean rolled his eyes and looked away.

"Alright." Dean faced Sam, "I say we stab him now."

"Oh!" Gabriel exclaimed, raising a finger, "And I know what angel _does_ know the location of the ever-shifting path to Heaven."

Sam nodded once. Okay. He didn't understand why Gabriel didn't just say that. Other than beating around the bush was kind of Gabriel's _thing_. Probably made him feel good about himself to know something others didn't...and then rub their noses in it.

Why was he still attracted to this asshole?

"Who?" Dean demanded, tired and frustrated.

"Well, ya just released him back to his master."

"Gadreel," Sam guessed. "Great."

"Newsflash, Gabriel: That asshat isn't going to be helping us anytime soon," Dean growled.

"And why is that?" Gabriel asked, though his tone of voice indicated he already knew the answer.

"Y'know what? Bite me, Gabriel."

"Funny, I think I've heard that phrase from you before."

"We're not working with Gadreel," Sam said slowly.

The very thought infuriated him. That angel had tricked him, stolen his body, used it whenever he wanted... Killed Kevin. Sam would never stop having nightmares about that. So, fuck him. They'd find another way to get to door. Or, not-door. Whatever.

When he looked over to Gabriel, the Archangel was stern. Disapproving, in an understanding sort of way. Sam had been under the impression that only teachers could give that look.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do," Gabriel replied. "Alls I'm sayin' is that, if you want to find Metatron, he's the guy you gotta get."

"Last time we _got_ him, he wasn't too helpful," Dean complained.

"Well, if you treated him anything like you did me," Gabriel cocked his head to look at Dean, "then I don't doubt why."

Dean scoffed, "So we should be nice to fucker who killed Kevin?"

"You took an angel that has been locked up and tortured since the Dawn of Time...and locked him up and tortured him. You tell me Dean: Does that sound like a good way to get information out of someone? Or does it sound like a way to make them desperate and unpredictable?"

"Just. Stop," Sam held up his hand. "Worst-case scenario, we'll go that route. But for now? No. Let's try to exhaust the other avenues we got."

"What? Cas and his little stormtroopers?" Gabriel mocked. "Because he did a _really_ good job locating God _last time_."

The slap Sam's hand made when it encountered the back of Gabriel's head was extremely satisfying. As was the indignant yelp. Gabriel tried to slap back. He missed. Sam's head twitched as he smiled condescendingly at the other.

"At least he's _trying. _More than you've done regarding a lot of things."

Gabriel frowned in annoyance. Yet, he didn't say anything back. Didn't come up with a rebuttal. Because he knew Sam was right. He knew that Sam knew Sam was right. What point would there be in arguing against the truth?

When Sam glanced at Dean, his brother wore a smug expression. No doubt because Gabriel'd just been smacked.

"Now that that's taken care of," Dean spoke, "why don't we discuss the whole Abaddon issue? Since, y'know, we have a better chance of solving that problem."

Gabriel faced Dean, confused. Sam grew apprehensive. Cas hadn't responded favorably to the Mark of Cain when he discovered it. Sam had a funny feeling that Gabriel's reaction was going to be _worse._ And he wasn't entirely sure he could hold the Archangel back from strangling his brother.

"What do you mean?" Gabriel questioned, and Sam's pulse went just a little faster.

His eyes darted quickly over to Dean. Dean didn't seem to notice the danger he was about to put himself in. Not good.

"We have the First Blade," Dean answered.

"That doesn't work - "

"Unless we have the Mark of Cain. Yeah, I know. Kinda took care of that little issue."

Gabriel blinked. Just once. Then his eyes widened just slightly as his eyebrows rose. His surprise quickly morphed into comprehension, and then even faster into rage. He glared at Dean.

"You didn't," he demanded.

"Oh, yes, I did. We need - "

Dean stopped as Gabriel rocked back in his chair, head thrown back as if the stupidity he'd just heard come out of Dean's mouth had punched him in the face. The Archangel pushed himself up and stormed a few feet away from the table.

"Boy, I gotta tell ya, Dean," Gabriel nearly shouted as he spun around to glare at him, "out of all the dumb fucking things you've done, _this one_ takes the cake!"

"Oh, come off it!" Dean shouted back, raising from his once-relaxed position. "What's with you _angels_ and -"

"Do you have _any_ goddamn idea what the _thing_ on your arm's capable of?!"

"Yeah! Stopping Abaddon!"

"Besides that, genius!"

Dean opened and shut his mouth a few times. He was livid, but his hesitation to find words wasn't coming from his anger. He was stuttering because he _didn't_ know what Gabriel had asked. He was unsure what Gabriel meant.

Sam didn't like that at all.

Gabriel cackled in disbelief, "You don't, do you? You didn't _think_ before you took the Mark from Cain. _Cain!_ You ever stop to wonder where he's painted as the _bad guy_ in the great Holy Bible?"

Dean's upper lip twitched in rage at the Archangel. His eyes were on fire. Sam had seen that look before.

"Dean," Sam spoke softly, trying to warn his brother against doing anything _else_ remarkably stupid.

"Yeah," Dean snapped, his eyes not leaving Gabriel. "I know all about how Abel was actually talking to _Lucifer_ and that _that's_ why Cain took the Mark. To _save_ his brother."

"Oh, ho, is that what Cain said?" Gabriel asked as he began to pace. "Well, he wasn't wrong. Lucifer _was_ talking to Abel. Because he wanted a Vessel. He wanted a way to play with the little hairless apes where they wouldn't know any better. Wouldn't see the devil in disguise and he could play them like a fiddle.

"He wanted to utterly ruin humanity. He had a plan to do that in Abel. Y'see, Abel was the youngest, he was attractive in more ways than one, and, hoo, my brother saw a little bit of himself in the boy. He wanted him. But Abel kept telling him no."

Sam frowned. He hadn't been with Dean when he'd met Cain. In fact, he was hearing about the origin of the Mark for the first time. But... Gabriel's story was conflicting with Dean's. Or, Cain's. Sam glanced back at Dean and noticed that his rage had disappeared. Now, he was just confused. And worried. He knew what Gabriel was implying, too.

Gabriel smiled ruefully, "That's right, Dean-o. Cain killed his brother for no reason at all. Abel didn't need saving. He was saving himself."

Again, Sam looked at Dean. Dean was staring at the table.

"That doesn't change anything. We still need the Mark," he mumbled.

"Lucifer gave that Mark to Cain," Gabriel continued, "to corrupt him. To use him as an instrument of destruction because Lucifer couldn't do it himself. What was Cain when you ran into him?"

Sam inhaled sharply. Dean's eyes widened as he snapped his head up to look at Gabriel. He glanced at Sam and then back. He shook his head.

"No," he stated firmly.

"You're becoming a demon, Dean," Gabriel replied easily, though there was no mocking tone in his voice now.

"I..." Dean stammered. "I'll kill myself first. I - "

"Dean," Sam breathed.

"I'm not becoming a demon!" Dean shouted in distress. "I'm not going to become the thing that we spent all our lives trying to get rid of!"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Gabriel's voice spoke from over Sam's shoulder.

Sam jolted a little at the sudden closeness. He hadn't heard the Archangel walk towards him. Dean glared at Gabriel.

"It's transforming your soul. What do you think is going to happen when your soul is freed from its fleshy confines?"

"W-well what am I supposed to do then? Just _wait_ for the inevitable." Dean implored.

"Hell if I know," Gabriel answered. "Maybe you shoulda thought of that before."

"Gab - " Sam cut himself off and started again. "Okay, look. We'll figure something out. There's... The Men of Letters had that cure, right? Remember? The one I tried on Crowley. Well, sorta tried. What if we used that on you?"

"Would that work?"

"I don't see why it wouldn't?"

"What cure?" Gabriel interrupted.

Sam looked up at him. The Archangel didn't look confused so much as suspicious. Also thoughtful. Thoughtful was good. At least that meant Gabriel was legitimately trying to help them get to the bottom of something. Other than just rubbing the situation in Dean's face.

"The Men of Letters discovered a way to use, like, purified blood to cure a demon. It was a spell, or ritual. Cleansed their souls. Made them human again."

"Fancy trick," Gabriel murmured. "Don't know how it'll affect a mid-transition human soul, but... If push comes to shove."

"So... So, I'm good?" Dean asked shakily, glancing back and forth at Sam and Gabriel.

"No," Gabriel smiled humorless as he nodded. "See, the Mark's still on your arm. So! Cleansing you would..."

Sam rolled his eyes in frustration. Dean frowned.

"As long as the Mark's there - "

"I'm fucked."

"Dean," Sam began.

"There might be a way to get rid of it," Gabriel stated, gaining both Sam's and Dean's rapt attention. "Don't look at me like that. I don't know for sure, alright?

"But Cain passed on the Mark. Maybe...he can take it back."

Dean shifted uncomfortably but nodded his understanding. Sam glanced at him, worried.

He knew the Mark had been affecting Dean. He'd known Dean was acting worse than he usually did on the jerk scale. He hadn't realized - hadn't thought it was possible - that what the Mark was doing was actually changing his brother from the inside out.

And Sam knew what it felt like to have something monstrous festering inside. Knew what it felt like to try and ignore that, to convince himself that the power it gave was worth it and that he was doing the right thing... Only to have the truth slap him in the face.

He also knew how Dean was going to handle that information.

"Alright. I need - I need to go. I need to drive."

Sam frowned, watching his brother stand quickly from his chair. Dean didn't look at him, or Gabriel. He just headed straight for the stairs. And Sam didn't try to stop him. Because he knew Dean needed his space, that he needed to let off some steam. He needed time to think.

"Word of warning, Dean-o," Gabriel called after him, arms folded loosely, "don't do anything too _demonic._"

The reply he was given was a quick middle finger and, soon enough, a very loudly slammed door. Sam gave the back of Gabriel's head a disapproving look. One the Archangel didn't see when he turned to look down at Sam, because Sam had just caught onto the possible meaning of Gabriel's warning.

"You think that'll make it worse?" He questioned.

"How do you think souls wind up in Hell, even if their humans haven't squandered them away in a deal?" Gabriel replied solemnly.

"Great."

"Yeah. Great! Now, not only is Metatron and Hell's greatest hits something we gotta watch out for, but your dear, sweet brother, too! And y'all wonder why I stayed my ass in Heaven."

Sam was going to quip about how, yeah, it was because Gabriel was probably the biggest coward in the universe, but then he noticed the way the other turned away. That small sparkle of emotion in his eyes just as bit at the inside of his lip. Ah! Revelation.

"You _care_," Sam accused, small smirk pulling at his lips. "This is like that time in Elysian Fields when you tried to brush off your being there are _just_ sentimentality. You care and you're pissed that you care. Because caring means you actually have to do something. Ha! Wow."

He pointed at Gabriel, "I got your number."

Gabriel gave him a side glance, "Now that you're done psychoanalyzing me, mind showing me this Men of Letters research you stumbled upon? I mean, being a creature that's been around since the inception of demons, I kinda'd like to know how humans discovered a way of getting rid of them without getting rid of them."

Sam snorted and stood, "Hairless apes knowing more than you hit below the belt?"

Gabriel hummed.

Sam still felt bad, because of Dean's situation and how much it sucked, but bantering with Gabriel at least provided some lift in his mood. He knew Dean'd be using Jim, Jack, Johnny and Jose to lift his. Not the healthiest way, but...

"Well, we could forego the research portion and I just show you the video they made of the procedure."

"Ooh," Gabriel replied, eyebrows raised. "There any popcorn?"

"We had some once, but Cas kinda beat ya to it."

"Figures. Why'd he get it, anyway? He's an angel."

Sam waited a moment before informing him, "So are you..."

Gabriel scoffed and shrugged in a manner that asked, 'What does that have to do with anything?' Sam simply nodded at him and then turned to fetch the old projector from the storage room. He paused a few steps away, refaced Gabriel, and pointed at his laptop.

"Don't touch."

He made it two more steps before he turned and added:

"And don't conjure popcorn."

"Geh! You can't watch a movie without popcorn! It's a sin!"

"No, it isn't."

"It should be!"

Sam rolled his eyes and finally went on his way.

He only hoped Gabriel would do as he was told. For once. The last thing they needed was their ace in the hole wasting his power on a snack. The last thing Gabriel needed was to weaken himself. It was in everyone's best interest if the popcorn stayed nonexistent.

When he returned to foyer, film and small projector in hand, Gabriel was, thankfully, right where Sam had left him. Granted, he was sitting down and looking like the most bored being on the face of the planet, but he was still there. And Sam's laptop was still closed, pushed towards the far end of the map table. Good. Gabriel _could_ follow directions, after all.

Sam requested that Gabriel follow him into the library, where it would be easier to use the projector. Gabriel dragged himself out of his chair as if he were straining against quicksand. Sam made sure to comment that moving wasn't going to kill him. Gabriel quipped that he never knew, it just might. Sam sighed at the other's theatrics.

Gabriel didn't conjure any popcorn all throughout the short video of the Man of Letters performing the ritual. In fact, he watched with rapt attention, his face amazingly unexpressive. He didn't flinch at the grotesque scenarios the demon talked about; the screams didn't bother him. Sam realized that, maybe, that was because Gabriel was also the Trickster. He knew how to do bad, too. Even if not in the same vein as a demon. It was a slightly worrying thought.

What was worse was that Sam foolishly wanted to hope that he was wrong about that darkness in Gabriel. It was almost a failing of his, wanting to see the good in people, or monsters. The situation with the Grace hadn't helped matters. After all, he got to see the personality of a Gabriel, as the Grace had said, that still had it in him to hope. Sam wondered if he could get Gabriel to do that again.

Knowing his luck, he'd just get his hand bitten again.

When the film ended, Sam shut off the projector. Gabriel merely blinked as he continued to stare at the spot on the wall where the image had been. He smirked briefly.

"Human ingenuity's really somethin', isn't it?" Gabriel asked.

"What do you mean?" Sam frowned, confused as to what brought on that statement.

"An angel's Grace is too strong to purify a soul," he explained, finally looking at Sam. "That's why we _smite_. We...overcook. Too much juice and _pfft_. Charbroiled.

"But this person," he pointed briefly at the wall, "or the Men of Letters, came up with the idea to use a soul to purify a soul. I mean, as corny and gushy as it sounds, they literally thought that the power of love and divine forgiveness would wash away the sins. Heh, and the funny thing is that it worked."

Gabriel shook his head in amusement, "Sure the Beatles would love to hear that."

"But will it work on Dean?"

Gabriel stared at him for a few seconds. Silent. Not blinking. It was kinda creeping Sam out.

"If push comes to shove," Gabriel reiterated. "Yeah. If you do it, yeah."

Sam nodded. Good. That was good. At least, that was better than the alternative. He was sure Dean wouldn't want to... To become a demon and kinda be fed his brother's blood, and Sam really didn't like the idea of giving Dean his blood, but... If it had to be done, it had to be done.

"By the way," Gabriel began. "Any weird dreams last night?"

Sam's eyes widened a little before he schooled his expression. He did, however, forget to not fidget nervously. Gabriel didn't miss his reaction. That stare of his only seemed to intensify.

"Yeah?" Sam asked, unsure of why he was being questioned. "Like, I mean... It wasn't lucid. So, that's a plus, right? There were some places I haven't been to before. Not unusual. Dream me was kind of a jerk. But, sometimes it was more reactionary jerkishness. I saw Lucifer for a bit, but he didn't do anything to me. _That_ part was weird..."

"I think jerk's probably a little light of a sentence coming from you, Sam."

Sam frowned, "What?"

Gabriel smirked, "Lemme guess: Lotta cold places?"

Sam's face became blank as he realized, "I dream walked again, didn't I?"

"Yup."

"I - " Sam stammered, bringing his hands to his face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, I..."

He dropped his hands to glare accusingly at the Archangel.

"Why didn't you stop me?"

Gabriel shrugged with a shoulder, "Already told you: I ain't doin' anything you don't want me to. Your subconscious wants to take a little stroll through my head? I'll let it. Though, it is really weird having your brain poked while still conscious. Usually, it's the other way around for me."

Sam huffed, "And how do I know you didn't just let me do that so I could strengthen my powers, or whatever?"

Gabriel smiled, "I find your suspicion of me endearing. Keep using that brain of yours, Sam. However, you're wrong with that accusation. Eh, sorta wrong."

"You wanna elaborate?"

"You walked into my head _on accident._ If you want to stop using your powers, you have to learn how to control them first. To keep from using them _on accident."_

"So that I don't accidentally make them escalate too far," Sam mumbled.

"Bingo."

Sam sighed. He was exhausted. It was the start of the day and he was exhausted. Crawling back to bed and hiding under the covers sounded like a really good idea. Unfortunately, running from his problems never made them go away. And he really didn't want to drift back off into dreamland while Dean was still out, probably at the closest bar he could find.

Hell, he didn't even want to go back to dreamland. He tended to _wander_ when there.

"Okay, well. Now what?" He asked lifelessly.

"Mmm, I say we go get popcorn and watch that _Game of Thrones_ DVD set you have hidden in your drawers."

"What is with you and the popcorn? _Why_ were you in my drawers?"

Gabriel smirked suggestively.

"Out of the gutter!"

Gabriel stuck his tongue out at him and then got out of his chair. Sam wondered where he was going for a moment until he realized that that was the direction of the garage. Where the cars were. That Gabriel probably wanted them to take so they could go get popcorn. Yay.

With a groan, Sam pushed himself up and followed after the Archangel. He made sure to leave a note _and_ a text telling Dean where they were going, just in the off-chance that Dean got back before they did.


	3. Chapter 3

"You sure you're okay with this?" Sam asked, glancing over at Gabriel in the passenger seat.

"It was my idea, wasn't it?"

"Because those have _always_ worked out in the past."

"Hey! I'll have you know I've never been found when I didn't wanna be," Gabriel announced smugly as he returned the glance.

Sam nodded, "So, you _wanted_ Metatron to find you?"

Gabriel scoffed, gaze returning to the road, "That doesn't count. He cheated. All-seeing eyes and whatnot."

Sam frowned. The light he was coming to turned yellow so he slowed to a stop. He used the time the light provided him to stare at the Archangel beside him.

Said Archangel that had him driving to the local supermarket on Main St. because he wanted _popcorn_.

"If Metatron has 'all-seeing eyes', then how, exactly, are the wards you placed on the car going to keep you hidden?" Sam demanded, suddenly wishing he'd stayed in the Bunker for a completely different reason than the stupidity of their quest.

"Ye of little faith," Gabriel mumbled. He lolled his head to look at Sam and continued, "I wasn't really prepared for him last time, Einstein. I heard the Horn and went to it. Yeah, brilliant, I know. This time? Got a better idea of what I'm dealing with. Trust me: He's not gonna be spyin' me anytime soon."

Sam nodded, facing the road, "Okay... How long is _soon_?"

Gabriel gave a strangled noise, "Do you really have to question everything? All the time? Can you not just kill the motor for...half an hour?"

In one fluid motion, Sam put the car in park and turned the ignition off. He turned to give Gabriel the best no-nonsense stare in his repertoire. He managed not to smirk at how intensely Gabriel rolled his eyes just before placing his head in hands.

Gabriel drug them down his face and gave Sam an unamused glare.

"The light's gonna turn green eventually," he grumbled.

"There's no one behind us."

"Yeah, well, the longer we sit here, the shorter 'soon' gets. Basic logic, Sam."

Sam reluctantly turned the car back on and put it back in gear.

"So, soon's not very long, then," he guessed. "And we're wasting that time getting _popcorn_."

"Now who's obsessed with it?"

"Bite me, Gabriel."

"You and your brother must be into some really kinky shit."

The light turned green. Sam may have given the car just a little more gas than it needed to get moving, causing it to jerk forward. He let off the pedal in way of apology. His frown, however, remained.

Yeah. Gabriel was annoying. But what was _frustrating_ was the seemingly never-ending sexual innuendos he kept using. Because the elephant was still in the room. It was a very big elephant, for Sam, and it was equally as annoying. Gabriel, on the other hand, stuck with the notion of not mentioning it. Hell, Sam wondered if he even saw it.

Sam saw it. Sam saw it all the damn time. Any time he looked at Gabriel there was a big, bright, neon sign flashing in his mind's eye that tauntingly went, "Remember that time you thought it'd be a good idea to sex up an angel of the Lord, even if it was just in your head?" And he would tell his mind's eye, "Yes, I remember. But that's not the same Gabriel. Different circumstances. I kinda wanna strangle this one." His body would reply, "Don't care."

To say he was frustrated would actually be a bit of an understatement. He was frustrated that he was frustrated, on top of it.

Sam didn't realize he was speeding until Gabriel snarked, "Yo, lead foot."

He let off the gas, the car slowing to the posted speed limit. Though he rolled his shoulders to try and relieve some of his tension, his fingers continued to grip the steering wheel a little too tightly.

"Y'know," Gabriel began conversationally, "I gotta ask: Where'd you get this little Hot Wheels? I mean, with bozo driving you around everywhere... And the Men of Letters seemed to stop giving a damn after the late 50's."

Sam snorted and mumbled, "More like they were murdered in the late 50's."

"Tough break."

An uncomfortable pause came between them.

Tough break, indeed.

"Uh, yeah," Sam replied, going back to the original question. "Stole it. ...I actually had to go back and get it, one time. Um. Long story short, Dean and I split up, I rejoined him, and left the car. Had him drive me back later because I thought, 'Why not?' It's not that bad of a car."

Gabriel hummed in amusement. Sam glanced at him to see a small smirk on his face.

"And the fact it's named_ Demon_ didn't influence you at all?" The Archangel teased.

Sam challenged, "Is that supposed to mean something?"

"Only that irony follows you like white on rice."

"Uh-huh. And what do you know about cars, anyway?"

"Please, Sam! What'd you think I did the whole time I was chillin' on Earth? _Literally_ keep my head buried under some sand?"

Sam took his eyes off the road to stare hard at Gabriel. He didn't have to stare long before Gabriel fidgeted nervously, no longer looking at him but at the road. Sam reluctantly drug his eyes back to where they belonged.

"Okay, fine," Gabriel amended. "I read the ass end of your car. Like I mentioned: Irony. Kinda stuck out at me."

"Mm-hmm," was all Sam replied.

They slipped into a somewhat companionable silence. Probably more so on Gabriel's part, considering how relaxed he seemed to be, thumb drumming on his thigh to some internal music of his. Sam, on the other hand, was still trying to tell his mind and body to stop acting like hair attracted to static any time his attention drifted over to the other. Which was, on average, every two seconds.

The supermarket came into view soon enough.

Lebanon wasn't heavily populated, a little over two hundred people overall, and, because of this, stores a lot of Americans took for granted didn't even bother to set up shop. So, Sam did most of his shopping here. Prices were a little more expensive, but nothing that would make a person furl their greedy, little nose up in distaste. Plus, hey, support the local businesses.

Sam turned into the parking lot and found a spot near the door. Not really that hard to do, considering the 'parking lot' was merely a few designated spots beside the curb.

He put the car in park, turned it off, unbuckled his seat belt, looked at Gabriel, and then frowned at the raised eyebrow directed towards the small store.

"What?" He questioned.

"I got the feeling we were in the sticks from the scenery, but really? _That's it_?"

Sam smiled mockingly as he opened his door, "Yeah, Gabriel. That's it."

Gabriel exited the vehicle shortly after him. Sam continued to watch him, smirk still in place at the slight distaste on the Archangel's face. If Sam hazard to guess, Gabriel probably assumed that the store wouldn't even carry popcorn. Or it didn't have his favorite brand. Did Gabriel even have a favorite brand? Did he just conjure everything he ate?

Sam frowned as he realized he was spending way too much mental energy contemplating Gabriel's eating habits. Yeah. Yeah, he had it bad. All hope was lost. Add another tally to the self-loathing list.

The bell jingled above the door as Gabriel pushed it open. Sam stepped in behind him and then smiled pleasantly at a young employee who welcomed them. It was a bit of an unspoken rule to be polite to everyone in the small town, Sam had learned. Naturally, Gabriel didn't even glance in the girl's direction.

"Wow," the Archangel muttered, walking further into the store. "Bell and everything. I'm starting to wonder if I walked back into my own TV Land. You sure this isn't Mayberry?"

"Why are you so cynical in a _store_, of all places?" Sam questioned as Gabriel glanced quickly at the signs over the aisles. "What did the store ever do to you?"

Gabriel glanced at him from over his shoulder, unamused, and then began to walk towards the snacks.

"It's small. Cramped. Not that many people here. I don't like it."

"Okay, well, if our goal is to avoid detection... Isn't this the idle place to be?"

"No," Gabriel replied easily. "By themselves, and given the current state of affairs, angels are going to wait until their target is isolated. Close quarters... Hardly any humans in the area..."

Sam nodded, eyes scanning the shelves, "Harder to run and hide."

"Yahtzee! Besides, I'm having flashbacks of a certain convenient store I ran into not too long ago. Well, 'me.' It was an illusion of me, but, same thing."

Sam's brow furrowed. Gabriel was in Holy Fire until... Oh. Right. Cas mentioned Metatron using Gabriel to convince him to do...exactly what he was currently doing.

That was still something Sam didn't understand the logic of. But, hey, maybe Cas had an ace up his sleeve. He hoped Cas had an ace up his sleeve. He really didn't want to know what would happen if his friend played the role assigned to him to a T.

"Why did Metatron have you use a _convenience store_ to convince Castiel to work for him? That sounds..."

"Odd? Weird? A handful more synonyms one could think of to describe that dickbag?"

"...Basically, yeah."

"For all the reasons I criticized this place. Ooh!"

Spotting his prize, Gabriel sped towards the very small selection of microwaveable popcorn on the middle shelf. The Archangel didn't even pause to contemplate which flavor he wanted. He snatched the extra butter one and spun on his heel to go back towards the registers. Sam jerked a little when he noticed he'd have to move because Gabriel wasn't stopping. He frowned at the other and then followed.

"I'm going to go out on a limb," Sam began, "and say there was an ambush?"

"Yup. Metatron's plan was to have me sacrifice myself to spur Castiel into leading the angels. After an emotional parting scene worthy of _Star Wars_, I might add. Which...wasn't as emotional as planned. Castiel ad-libbed a little."

"He hugged you didn't he?" Sam smirked.

Gabriel stopped walking in the middle of the store to frown suspiciously at him. Sam paused beside him, looking down at him innocently.

"Okay, I know you could make the logical leap about the ambush thing, but how'd you figure _that_ out?"

Sam smiled, "I may or may not have planted the idea in his head that it's okay to hug people you care about."

Gabriel nodded slowly, mouth slightly open and brows knitted together. Then, he shook his head and continued on his way. Sam tried not to grin.

"You're freaked out that he cares about you enough to hug you, aren't you?" He teased.

"There you go with the psychoanalyzing thing again. I'm about to take the bond and shove it up your ass if you don't quit," Gabriel grouched.

"Not sure it works that way," Sam continued, devilishly enjoying himself.

Gabriel placed the popcorn firmly on the counter, clearly growing more agitated. He gave the cashier a false smile and nod when he asked if that's all they needed, then he turned to glare at Sam.

Oh, yes, Sam had hit a nerve. He was hitting a lot of nerves. Intentionally, of course. Because not only was it fun to taunt Gabriel with his own feelings but it was also relieving to realize he had them. Not because Sam ever thought angels were incapable of feeling anything. He knew they were, even if their emotions weren't portrayed in a way humans - or his brother - were used to. No, Sam was testing to see if Gabriel still had that softness, that vulnerability, the Grace had displayed him to have. And he _did._

Now if only Sam could get him to realize that wasn't a _bad_ thing. That he didn't have to be a fucking asshole 24-7 to protect himself.

Sam was quite well aware that he was aiming for the moon.

The cashier read them their total, and Gabriel happily informed the guy that Sam was paying. Then, he walked out of the store as if there wasn't a care in the world. Sam scoffed, still trying not to grin. It was cute how the Archangel thought something that cost less than five dollars was going to anger him.

Sam paid for the popcorn. When he left the store, Gabriel was sitting in the passenger seat. He didn't look at Sam as he approached the car. He simply continued to glare out the window.

Five minutes into the ride home, Gabriel finally spoke.

"I'm worried about him," he admitted quietly.

Sam frowned, "Who? Cas?"

"He has no idea what he's doing," Gabriel elaborated. "And that's what Metatron's banking on. He's playing right into his hand. Again."

Sam sighed, "Maybe not. You said he broke Metatron's script before. You said he ad-libbed. Maybe he can do that again?"

"He only fully broke it because I left a hint."

"Leave another one?" Sam suggested, glancing at Gabriel.

Gabriel scoffed, "So, what? I'm just supposed to spread bread crumbs around for all the little dodos? Hope they don't get picked off by the asshats with the guns?"

Sam's lips twitched, "Well, if you don't want the dodos to go extinct, then I'd say yeah. Yeah, the bread crumbs are a good idea. Look, I know you're not used to, I don't know, being an _older_ brother, or whatever, but you've already warned Castiel once. Even if it was a bit unorthodox. And you flat-out told Dean about the Mark.

"It's not _that_ hard to help stop something catastrophic from happening. Not as hard as you think it is, anyway."

Sam frowned, mood spoiled.

"Even if... Even if Dean - the Mark - can't be stopped... You still tried to help."

A long silence filled the car.

Sam was uncomfortable, his thoughts dragged back to the situation with his brother. He wanted to help Dean, he wanted to get rid of that damned brand on his arm, but he didn't know how. He was stuck with this overwhelming need to act. Now. Right now. But he couldn't. He couldn't do anything but wait until an answer to the problem was found. And what if that took too long?

The only thing that helped relieve some of his worry was the assurance of Gabriel that the purifying ritual should work if the worst happened. And Sam did everything in his power to mute the negativity bouncing around in the back of his mind that kept reminding him of just how shaky the word 'should' was.

"There's no guarantee Cain will remove the Mark. No guarantee that he can," Gabriel stated somberly. "I don't see why my brother would allow his special toys to be free of him."

Sam let out a shaky breath, coming to a stop at a red light.

"So, Dean's screwed. We _are_ playing a waiting game."

"Maybe. Maybe not." Gabriel's voice wasn't as defeated as Sam felt. "We try what we can first. If Cain's a bust, I got another idea."

"What? Chop his arm off?" Sam bit, more upset at feeling helpless than anything else.

Gabriel didn't have the class to not snort in amusement. Oddly, that didn't offend Sam at all. Maybe he was just too used to dark humor.

"Don't think that'd work, kiddo, but at least you're thinkin'. No, there was something Gadreel said to your brother."

Sam tapped his thumb against the steering wheel nervously. Gabriel was mentioning something Gadreel had said again. Sam was starting to worry about just how much Gabriel had learned about what had happened when he was possessed.

He wasn't too thrilled about the idea. Not right now. Not when that...trauma was so close to the surface. Not when he wasn't sure how much he trusted Gabriel with.

However, it wasn't like he could just take back whatever memories Gabriel had come across away from the Archangel.

"What did he say?" Sam dared to ask, resentful that he was even curious.

"Change the sigil, change the spell."

The light turned green and Sam drove forward. Gabriel's words echoed in his mind. Gadreel's words, he should say. He remembered them now. When Gadreel had revealed how Dean's plan had been foiled almost as soon as it had begun.

"Alter the Mark?" Sam tried to clarify. "You think that'll work?"

Gabriel shrugged, the bag his popcorn was in crinkled in his lap.

"Again: _Maybe_. Hell, in case you haven't noticed, most of my brilliant ideas are based around the word 'maybe.' I'm not stronger than Lucifer, Sam. Never was. Definitely not now. I don't even know the specifics of the spell he used to create that damn thing. So, there's no way I can wipe it clean. But I might could figure out a way to change it. ...Don't think your brother'll like that idea too much, though."

"Why not?"

"The Mark's branded his soul, not just his arm."

Sam nodded. He understood what Gabriel was implying. To change the mark on Dean's soul, Gabriel would have to touch it. Alter it, similar to how the Mark was now, only with a different endgame, Sam imagined.

Yeah, Dean couldn't stand the idea of Gabriel getting in his personal space. He highly doubted his brother would approve of Gabriel getting near his soul. However, with his _soul_ on the line, maybe Dean would come around.

Hopefully, he'd come around.

"I'll tell Dean," Sam said. "Whenever he gets back."

Gabriel didn't reply, yet Sam didn't miss the contemplative look he gave him.

The rest of the drive was spent in silence. Sam was thinking too much about everything to speak.

If they could get Cain to take back the Mark, then everything would be fine. But, nothing ever went _fine_ for a Winchester. Then there was Gabriel's idea to alter the Mark. In theory, it wasn't too bad. If that didn't work, they'd have to do the cure thing after the fact and... Sam really didn't want to go there. He knew Dean wouldn't want to either.

Before they could do any of that, they'd have to take out Abaddon. To do that, Crowley would have to pull the Blade from his ass and hand it over.

The topic of Crowley made his blood boil.

This was all the demon's fault. Okay, not all, but most of it. Dean wouldn't have gone after the Blade so readily if he hadn't had the new fucking devil whispering in his ear every step of the way.

They should have done away with him a long time ago.

Sam should have been able to close the Gates of Hell to begin with.

Why did everything always fall apart?

When they arrived at the Bunker, Sam parked the car in the garage - where it had sat before they left. The Impala hadn't been parked in front of the door, and it wasn't in the garage, so Sam knew Dean wasn't back yet. He hadn't expected him to be, in all honesty, but he'd kind of wished he would be. He'd like to get the discussion regarding his brother's fate out of the way, and maybe give him a little hope in the process.

Gabriel was following him as they entered the foyer. Sam could hear him spinning his popcorn around with the bag, as if it were a sling.

"Too bad you don't have a way to play the DVDs with the projector," Gabriel remarked. "No offense, Sam, but your TV kinda - "

Gabriel gasped sharply. Sam stopped walking and turned to face him.

He saw the glow in the Archangel's eyes first. Gabriel's brow furrowed as he grimaced. The popcorn went flying. Sam didn't see where. It didn't matter. Because Gabriel's knees were buckling under him.

Sam rushed towards him to catch him - to do _something_. He barely registered the warmth and feel of Gabriel's shoulder beneath his palm before that feeling was replaced by intense pain.

He didn't feel himself be thrown back, but he did feel when he hit the ground. It didn't hurt so much as it jarred him. All of him felt numb. The room was spinning. It took him a few seconds to realize it was only metaphorically spinning.

Gabriel was in pain. He could hear him.

Sam struggled to right himself, to roll over and bring himself to his feet. He struggled to focus on the Archangel - who was on his knees as he clutched desperately to the table.

But the _sound._

It wasn't just pounding on the inside of his skull but around the room, too. Lights were flickering, exploding, the machines on the wall sparked. The alarm may have been going off; he wouldn't have been able to hear it if it was.

Sam couldn't call out to him. His jaw was clenched too tight. All he could do was crawl towards Gabriel. He was only a few feet away, but it felt like so much farther. And every inch he came closer just made his mind hurt worse.

He could almost see them. Gabriel's wings. Shocks of energy flapping erratically behind the Archangel. But they weren't really there. Tricks of the light. Tricks of his mind.

Gabriel was screaming so loud, even though his mouth was shut tight in a pained grimace. It was an eerie effect.

Gabriel collapsed just before Sam reached him. The screaming stopped, replaced by a more tolerable hissing static - a white noise that Sam couldn't tell the source of.

He'd thought Gabriel had passed out, but the angel tensed under his hand as Sam grabbed a hold of his shoulder again.

This time, there was no pain; he didn't go flying.

Sam, as gently as he could, fitted an arm underneath Gabriel and rolled him so that he was on his back in Sam's arms.

Gabriel's eyes locked onto his. The glow was still there, burning in the center of his pupils. He was gasping for air between clenched teeth as he clutched at Sam's arm with his left hand.

He _writhed _in Sam's arms, he _whimpered_, and that sight was far more terrifying than whatever had happened scant seconds ago.

With a final whine - an angelic whine - Gabriel went limp, his head lolling back as his hand slipped from Sam's shirt.

"Gabe. Gabriel!" Sam shouted in fear.

He brought his hand up to cup Gabriel's face. The Archangel didn't respond. Not even when Sam tried to jostle him. But he was warm, abnormally warm, and Sam knew he'd been here before.

The angel siren had been activated again. 'Gabriel's Horn.'

"Shit," Sam swore, bringing Gabriel up so he could clutch at him just as tightly as the Archangel had him.

Sam was shaking. He hadn't noticed before, too terrified for Gabriel, but now he could feel the small tremors wracking his body. His heart was pounding. His ears - his mind - still buzzed.

He wasn't used to this. Nerves were one thing, but this was different. This was worse than what he'd felt in the storage shed. He _knew_ what this was.

The warning siren of the Bunker quieted. Probably half the lights had gone out completely - shattered by the sound of an angel's true voice. The half-darkness of the room didn't help him calm down any.

Sam needed help. He couldn't help Gabriel on his own.

Cas was out of the picture. Even if he wasn't, he didn't have the strength to heal Gabriel. Sam might be able to help, as he had before, but that required more dream walking.

He didn't feel safe enough to just conk out while Dean was still gone. He was paranoid about the timing of Gabriel's attack. He was also worried that something would happen to Dean while he was out.

Frantically, Sam shuffled Gabriel so he could reach into his pocket for his phone. He had to call Dean. They had to come up with something. If Dean wasn't too engrossed with his booze to answer his damn phone.

Sam pulled out his phone and looked at the screen. A chill ran through his body. The screen was cracked. He quickly spammed the on button, all the buttons, to try and get it to come on. It wouldn't.

"Shit!" He swore again, panic bleeding into rage.

He tossed the phone to the floor and shifted Gabriel into a bridal hold. He didn't have the time nor patience to fuck with a broken phone. They had spares. One might be in the top drawer of his bedside table. He thought he remembered putting an old one in there.

Wherever one was, he'd find it. First thing was first, though.

He stood up, cringing a little at the forming bruise on his hip. The numbness was fading from his body, though his legs still felt shaky. He ignored that. Instead, he focused on getting Gabriel to his room.

Gabriel was unresponsive. Before, in the storage shed, Gabriel had at least been able to look at him, if only for a second. Now...

When he reached his room, Sam had to bend down to open his door or risk dropping Gabriel. He pushed forward with his shoulder and situated the Archangel on his bed, taking care to position him comfortably, even in his haste.

Gabriel hadn't started sweating yet. Sam placed the back of his hand against Gabriel's forehead. He wasn't nearly as hot as Sam knew he could get during whatever the siren was doing to him. At least that was a plus. For now.

His spare phone _was_ in the top drawer of his bedside table. Be thankful for small miracles, he told himself. Even if the rest of his world was falling to shit.

He dialed Dean's number. The line rang and rang as he paced around his bed, glancing so often at Gabriel that he may as well have not been taking his eyes off him.

His brother didn't answer the first time. He didn't answer on the second, third, or fourth times, either. The fifth consecutive dial was pressed with so much force that Sam was sure he'd break the phone if a six time was needed. He really didn't care.

On the third ring, Dean answered with a very gruff, "What!"

"Get your ass back here. _Now_," Sam demanded. "Something's wrong with Gabriel. It's the angel siren."

"And I care why?" Dean bit, frustration mirroring Sam's.

Sam inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, and remembered to count to ten.

Dean was dealing with his own thing. Dean didn't know the severity of what was going on with Gabriel. Dean had selective empathy. He needed Dean to come to the Bunker and watch his back. He did _not_ need to exacerbate the situation by yelling at Dean to stow his crap, no matter how much his nerves were frayed.

"Dean," Sam replied calmly, picking a spot on the wall and staring intently at it, "I understand. I do. And I'd love to give you your space right now. But Gabriel is being attacked. I have to help him. I can't do that unless you're here. I need you _here_."

His brother was silent for a few seconds.

"Yeah. Fine. Whatever," he mumbled, defeated. "I'll be there in a minute. Does asshat need anything?"

Sam frowned, glancing at Gabriel for the umpteenth time. He looked like he was merely sleeping, though whatever pain he was feeling left a small frown on his face. Sam hoped he wouldn't get as bad as he had last time. He wasn't in Holy Fire this time. That had to be good, right?

"No," he replied.

There wasn't anything Dean could get, to his knowledge, that would help Gabriel's condition.

"But I need sleeping pills."

"What? Why?" Dean asked, genuinely confused.

Sam could hear him mutter something to someone else. The sound of others in the background.

He ran a hand through his hair and walked over to the chair beside the bed on the other side of the room. His gaze resettled on Gabriel. Sam'd stopped shaking but he found his leg bouncing up and down. He didn't feel like making it stop.

He hesitated a second before telling Dean, "I'm going to dream walk again. Or try."

"Sam," Dean warned.

"I know," he sighed. "I said stopping the powers was...the best thing, but. Last time I did it, he said I helped strengthen him. And he'll need that again."

The Impala's engine roared to life as Dean growled, "Is there seriously nothing else you can do? I don't think -"

"No," Sam interrupted. "Just...no. Not in time."

Dean reluctantly submitted to Sam's plan. They hung up.

Sam spent his time waiting staring at Gabriel. He was probably being creepy. Yeah, he was definitely being creepy. But it wasn't like he had anything else to do until Dean arrived, and he needed to keep an eye on Gabriel's condition, anyway.

For some stupid reason, he'd thought they'd gotten past this - Metatron using the siren. They'd captured Gadreel for using it; Dean'd beat the shit out of him. Sam supposed he thought Metatron would have decided not to put his second-in-command in harm's way again. He'd thought wrong.

Maybe this was retribution. Maybe Metatron had figured out Gabriel was gone. How couldn't he? And what better way to twist the knife in a guy he couldn't reach with his own hands?

God, Sam hoped that wasn't the case. If Metatron started playing _extremely_ dirty...

Sam dropped his face into his hands, scrubbing it in frustration. They were going to have to find him. Get to him faster. Gabriel had told them who could lead them in the right direction.

Sam hated the idea. It made his skin crawl just as much as it had watching Gabriel writhe in his arms. But what choice did he have?

When Dean entered the room, Sam jumped. He mentally berated himself for it.

"Jumpy much?" Dean asked.

Sam looked over at him, a frown in place, and instinctively caught the pill box flying for his head. He turned the box in his hand to read the label.

"ZzzQuil? Really?" He questioned, giving Dean a look.

"Hey! I've seen what NyQuil can do, okay? Why_ not_ go for the 'official' sleeping version of it?" Dean shrugged, "I mean, I guess I coulda tracked down some roofies, but..."

"Yeah, no," Sam smiled briefly and shook the box, "this's fine. Thanks."

He rose from his chair and took the Coke Dean was offering him. He placed it under his arm as he worked on getting the pills open. Bottle would've been easier, but whatever.

"You sure this is a good idea?" Dean asked. When Sam glanced up at him, he was all but glaring down at Gabriel.

"I'll be fine, Dean."

"Will you? Last time I checked you weren't Charles Xavier."

Sam's brow furrowed as he popped two gel capsules from their plastic.

"He didn't really dream walk. He was just telepathic."

"You know what I mean!"

Sam swallowed the pills, recapped the Coke, and set in his chair. He didn't bother to continue whatever argument Dean was pursuing. He understood Dean was worried, he knew why, but Sam also knew he'd done this before and come out just fine. Dean knew it, too. Instead, Sam took two small steps to his bed and carefully laid himself down next to Gabriel.

It was an awkward arrangement. For one, it wasn't like he'd placed Gabriel right next to the edge of the bed. For another, his bed wasn't really all that big. Not when he was big, too. Sam tried to ignore how smushed he felt, his entire right side pressed against Gabriel's left.

Dean was silent for all of two seconds after Sam closed his eyes to try and relax.

"Aw, aren't you two just precious," he teased, chair creaking as he sat down in it. "I'm going to vomit."

"Shut up, Dean," Sam commanded easily.

Sam didn't know how much time passed before he finally felt the pills take effect. All he knew was that Gabriel's warmth was something he probably wasn't going to get used to, and feeling Dean staring at him the entire time was really fucking uncomfortable.

* * *

**A/N: Psst, review. No, seriously. I don't know how many of you know this, but feedback helps authors. In the very least, it keeps them going. Even if you just leave a smiley face. ...Which I've encountered before. Kudos to that one random smiley face.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **There were a surprising amount of you that left smiley faces. Well played.

* * *

Sam came to in white.

The floor, the walls, and, when he tilted his head to look, even the sky was white.

The space wasn't empty, though. Not all of it.

The floor was some sort of polished stone. Well, it was smooth and hard like polished stone, but there were no imperfections in it. No differentiations of color or chips. Just white. And _warm_. His skin squeaked when he drug his palm across it.

The walls weren't walls so much as pillars. They were made of the same material as the floor. A hazy whiteness spread in all directions beyond them.

Sam pushed himself slowly to his hands and knees, glancing around at the empty space behind the columns.

He couldn't tell if the fog continued forever or if anything was inside it. He even wondered if it was there at all. He got the impression he was looking at nothing. Not _space, _as he'd thought, but _emptiness_. A concept he was having a hard time wrapping his mind around. Humans never really encountered _emptiness_.

The sparsely-spaced columns stretched upward, dissolving after a certain point. They were blank. No particular style of architecture. Just...cylindrical, thick matter reaching into the heavens. As if they were meant to serve a purpose and only that. It didn't matter if they looked ornate. All that mattered was that they were there. In theory, anyway. Sam couldn't comprehend why _emptiness_ needed to be held up. _Or_ back.

Speaking of that emptiness, it made no sense to Sam. Light was coming from somewhere, wasn't it? Where? No Sun. Stars. Torches. ...Fluorescent lights. The rules of physics must have shrugged when this was made.

Sam got to his feet and looked over his shoulder behind him. The floor stretched out into the horizon. Sam couldn't see how far. It didn't feel like it dissolved, though. Not like the rest of this place.

"O-_kay_..." He drawled, confused as to where he was.

He tried to remember what he was doing, but his memory was in about the same shape as the area. Blank. He knew he was doing something important, though, and that time was of the essence. Now, if only he could remember _why_.

Sam finally looked in front of him again.

He gave a stuttered gasp and nearly jumped out of his skin.

A being stood in front of him. One that was remarkably tall and not human. Obviously. Four arms, six wings, and being made of light kind of hinted at that. Its skin and wings looked as if they were made from ice, and they refracted the light like a prism. Blinding and beautiful and _deadly_.

Fear crept up Sam's spine. It made the hair on his neck and arms stand on end.

He knew this being. He knew _him_. The _angel_ that now tilted his head, pointed halo following its movement, as he stared down at Sam. His face looked so much like Sam's that it was uncanny.

Horrifying.

Sam took an involuntary step back from Lucifer, and then another. Lucifer watched.

This wasn't the Cage. Lucifer shouldn't be here. This made no sense. Why was Lucifer here? Why did he look so much smaller than Sam remembered him as? Why did he look _whole?_

The look on Lucifer's face shifted from passive to aggressive, brow furrowing as his lips turned downward. The very air around him seemed to shift. It grew colder. A warning. Lucifer was tense, upset, and even space bent to his will to show it. Such was the power of an Archangel. Even one as fallen as Lucifer.

Sam almost stumbled as he continued to walk backwards, nearly jogging now. He was trying to keep his breath calm, trying not to show weakness in front of an angel that despised it.

He was failing. He knew that. And he knew Lucifer could see right through him.

Sam was too afraid to turn and run. Turning meant he'd expose his back to Lucifer. Not only would the Archangel see that as an insult, but he'd use that moment to strike. Contrary to the false promises he used to preach to Sam, Lucifer wasn't an honorable being. He preyed on the weak like any predator. No, to fight him, you had to face him.

Sad thing was: Sam was in no position to fight an Archangel. Not like this.

_"You shouldn't have come here,"_ Lucifer hissed, his true voice like the faint rumble at the start of an avalanche.

Feathers clinked together as he began to spread his wings, impossible light sending all sorts of colors streaking through them and around the room. Sure, they moved as if they were natural feathers, but Sam knew they were sharp as knives. Lucifer wasn't against using them as weapons.

He was threatening Sam.

"Oh, Jesus Christ," Sam breathed.

Fuck it, he thought. Lucifer was going to attack him anyway. He didn't need to play it safe.

If he wanted to live, he _shouldn't_ play it safe.

Sam spun on his heels and sprinted down the long hallway. He had no idea where the hell he was going, and he didn't care. All that mattered was that he get there.

Lucifer roared behind him, shaking everything, and Sam's stomach dropped. The Archangel's melodious flight echoed around the hall, bouncing off the pillars Sam was passing, and only served to fill Sam with an even greater sense of dread and inevitability.

_"I gave you your chance!"_ Lucifer's voice boomed, disturbingly close. _"And you betrayed me!"_

No, he hadn't. He'd done no such thing. There was never a choice when it came to Lucifer. Never. He only wanted one answer: Yes. An answer that Sam couldn't give him. That wasn't betrayal! He didn't deserve this!

Sam cried out as Lucifer crashed onto the ground in front of him, face twisted in anger. Sam's foot slipped out from under him, causing him to land hard on his rear. He grunted, more from the air rushing out of him than pain.

Lucifer crouched down, wings still spread, to crawl towards him menacingly. He _stalked_ towards Sam, languid and focused. His teeth were bared, and Sam wondered how the Archangel could ever question why people considered him a monster. He may have been angry, but he was taking his time with this punishment. Sam would _fear_ him if he did not _love_ him.

Sam scrambled to try and crawl away from him.

_"You chose _him_ over _me_," _Lucifer seethed. _"Why? He doesn't even love you! He only cares what _Daddy_ thinks!"_

Sam managed to get to his feet and took off for a nearby column.

He wanted to get away. He wanted to put something between him and the Archangel. Even if that something was a thin pillar of stone that, Sam logically knew, wouldn't protect him from anything.

Lucifer growled. That was the only warning Sam received before he was hit.

He didn't see what hit him, whether it was Lucifer's arms or wings, and it didn't matter. His feet left the floor and he was sent flying.

His world spun as he bounced off the pillar he'd been aiming for, like a ragdoll. His neck snapped back so fast he worried it would snap. But, it didn't. Miraculously. And neither did his spine, though pain radiated from the middle of his back where he'd hit.

Winded and in pain, he forced himself up off the floor. He might've not been able to breathe, and his vision was nothing but spinning white, but he _could_ drag himself behind the column.

And, as he'd known, the measly piece of architecture wasn't enough to give Lucifer much pause.

The Archangel sped around it with a thunderous crawl and then glared down at Sam in rage.

Lucifer very rarely let his anger show on the surface. Sam remembered that. Lucifer was cold and cruel. Detached in such a way that it was easy to mistake him as uncaring. Flippant, even. But this? This was wrath akin to Michael's. Passionate and intense. The difference only intensified Sam's fear of the Archangel. Whatever did he do to invoke such a change?

Lucifer was right: He should never have come here.

_"I took care of you and _this_ is how you repay me!"_

Sam opened his mouth to refute Lucifer's claims. Lucifer had most definitely _not_ taken care of him. He'd controlled him like a puppet. Hurt people and played it off as revenge. They deserved it, he'd said. But had they really? Sam didn't think so.

This time, Sam _did_ get to see what Lucifer smacked him with. He cringed and drew himself into a ball, futilely trying to protect himself, before Lucifer took both of his mighty right arms and swept him and the stone aside like they were nothing.

Sam's scream was lost somewhere among the overpowering sound of exploding rock. He tumbled through space and into the empty fog that served as the walls.

Once it enveloped his vision, it ceased to exist. All of the white vanished so fast, replaced by infinite darkness, that Sam was pretty sure he'd stopped existing himself.

Only, that couldn't be right. He was still tumbling through the air, or whatever constituted as air in this place. He could feel every twisting movement of his body. God, but he hurt! If he hadn't stopped being, maybe he'd just gone blind?

But, no, that wasn't the answer either. He could see little pinpricks of light and vague shapes, he realized. He didn't know what they were, but he really wished they'd stop spinning.

He really wished_ he_ would stop spinning.

He did...when he hit the ground.

_Hard_.

A pained shout punched its way out of chest as he landed onto his front with a small bounce. By all means, the arm that'd been trapped under him should've broken, but it didn't. Sam couldn't even muster the strength to question why. He didn't even have the strength to be fearful of Lucifer anymore. Even when the Archangel landed near him, shaking whatever solid surface Sam was currently lying on.

"Go away," Sam wheezed, surprised the familiar taste of copper wasn't on his tongue.

Naturally, Lucifer didn't listen. He stalked over to Sam and grabbed a hold of him as if he were a toy.

Sam grunted as he was forced onto his knees and turned, head held by his chin in Lucifer's cold grip, so that he was facing a handful of angels pinned to a black wall by wicked chains. He hazily wondered if those were the pinpricks of light he'd seen before. Somehow, that black wall was darker than the darkness around them.

_"Look at them_," Lucifer practically purred in his ear. _"They were flawed. Brokenness deserves punishment. But I'm not broken..."_

Sam wanted to disagree.

He didn't know what he was looking at, or who. These angels were different from Lucifer. Some had four wings, others two. They varied in size. Their halos were unique, though some shared designs with others. Different ranks, he imagined. Different branches of the species. All of them were miserable.

One of the angels, the largest, with Grace bleeding from a wound in his stomach, looked up at him with cold and dangerous eyes. He knew Sam, but Sam didn't know him. At least, Sam thought he didn't. Familiarity nagged at the back of his mind. That face...

Either way, it didn't matter. He might not be able to judge what the angels before him had done, but he knew what Lucifer did.

_"And yet you would have me join them!"_

Yes.

No.

He deserved worse. He'd screwed everything up. He needed to be caged. Separated from anyone he could ever hurt. He'd fallen too far to be saved. He didn't _want_ to be saved. And he would take everyone down with him in his torment. That couldn't be allowed to happen!

That wasn't fair. He loved him. Why was Lucifer doing this? Why incur God's wrath? Why anger Michael?

Something was wrong. Those weren't his thoughts. He didn't love Lucifer, he loathed him.

Why did he turn on him so easily? Why were they fighting? Why _hurt?_

The volume of his warring thoughts grew louder in his mind. Something was definitely wrong. His head hurt. It felt like it was ripping. He shut his eyes tight and tried to ignore the rising screech in his head. He couldn't.

Sam was thrown to the ground harshly. Lucifer was shouting at him. Ranting about the great injustice he was being put through. Boohoo, Sam wanted to say.

"Daddy was mean to me, so I'm going to smash up all his toys," a voice not his own mocked Lucifer with his own lips.

Get out, Sam thought. Separate. Get out of this body. It's not yours. Out, out, out!

A screech rent the air. Sam jerked in fright, eyes flying open.

He was immediately blinded by the whiteness that surrounded him. They were back in the white hall, apparently. He mentally swore at the ever-shifting dreamscape he was in.

Blinking rapidly, Sam eventually was able to focus on what was in front of him.

Lucifer was leaning over a pale-yellow angel with four wings, light dancing along them - or in them - as if it were bouncing off water. A spear of ice was in Lucifer's hand. It had run through Gabriel's chest, pinning him to the floor.

Sam knew that's who it was on the ground. He remembered his true form from before. And he remembered, now, just where he was and what he was trying to do.

Gabriel clawed pathetically at the weapon holding him down. He squirmed as his wings flapped lethargically. Lucifer didn't seem to care. He was merciless in his execution. He was merciless in everything he did, though he would often claim otherwise.

Sam could see Gabriel's pain and fear, he could feel it permeating the air, but he was frozen in place, on his hands and knees yards away. Because he didn't know how much strength he had here. He remembered how he'd accidentally injured Gabriel's Grace - in a situation not unlike the one now - and he feared Gabriel might do the same to him. That he might lash out in distress and somehow destroy Sam's psyche. He was, after all, far stronger than Sam was on a psychic level.

However, he couldn't leave Gabriel the way he was.

Sam struggled with himself, eyes flicking between the two Archangels.

_"Don't forget," _Lucifer purred,_ "you learned all your tricks from me, little brother."_

The words echoed in Sam's mind. He'd never heard them before, but it felt like he had. It was bleed over, he realized. It had to be. Gabriel had heard them, remembered their deadly taunt, and now they were being projected at Sam. It only made sense that way.

Gabriel screamed as Lucifer twisted his spear. He arched off the floor, wings flailing, as flame consumed him. Flame like Holy Fire. Fire that had tormented Gabriel for weeks. Fire that he was afraid of.

Sam finally pushed himself to his feet and sprinted for him. To hell with Lucifer and to hell with the danger. He wouldn't let Gabriel relive that nightmare. Not now that he knew what it meant.

Lucifer vanished, dissolving like one of Gabriel's illusions. The spear shifted, morphing from ice into glowing light. It originated from Gabriel's chest and stretched upward, tapering off into nothing.

That light was Gabriel's Grace, being syphoned off of him by the angel siren. That light was the thing Sam dove for, barely dodging one of Gabriel's large wings as it flailed.

Sam grunted when he landed on the Archangel's torso, quickly repositioning himself so he could place his hands over the hole in Gabriel's chest. His hands blocked the light for all of two seconds before Gabriel bucked again and roared. Sam clambered for purchase.

Gabriel's true form was big. Even though he'd been much larger in Sam's dream, in Gabriel's he was still big. Sam was barely longer than his upper body, and Gabriel's panicked, pained twisting wasn't that far off from riding a mechanical bull.

A mechanical bull that was on fire.

The flames weren't burning Sam. They were warm, yes, and they kept screwing up his vision every time he opened his eyes, but he wasn't feeling the unfortunately-familiar sensation of his flesh burning away. Thankfully. Because, if he had been, it would've been a lot more difficult to concentrate on what he was doing.

"Gabriel!" Sam shouted to him.

He flinched and grunted as one of the Archangel's hands swatted him.

Gabriel retracted the hand immediately, giving a confused wail as his head snapped back in agony.

Sam wondered if he'd been trying to grab his wound. After all, if he'd been trying to remove Sam, he would have swiped at him again. But he didn't. Instead, he clawed at the ground. Sam hoped that meant Gabriel understood he wasn't trying to hurt him.

Sam had to stop the Grace from leaking out. Maybe, if he could manage that_ here_ then he could somehow cut the angel siren off _out there_. However, with Gabriel burning, there was no way the Archangel would stay still long enough for Sam to do that. Even if the flames weren't real, Gabriel thought they were. He had to make Gabriel think of something else, or...

Gabriel jerked backwards, using his wings to propel him a little bit into the air, and then crashed back onto the ground. Sam cringed as he slid forward from the momentum, forced up under Gabriel's chin. He clutched at the other's neck and tried to not fall off. If he fell off, and Gabriel rolled over on him, things would not end well.

Wait a minute... Wings! Wings like water. Water! Think about water!

"Gabriel!" Sam tried again, trying to make his voice heard over the noise the Archangel was making and the roaring inferno covering his body. "Gabriel, think about water! You're not on fire! You... You can't be on fire because you're made of water! Right? This is all a-a trick! Lucifer tricked you, and you know his tricks! They're not real! Think about water! Fuckin'.._.be_ the water!"

Gabriel wasn't listening. Or, if he was, he wasn't of the right mind to listen to the tiny, hairless ape posing as a necklace who was shouting in his ear.

So, Sam shut his eyes and thought about water for him. If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. And Sam tried and tried again. He thought about waterfalls, ponds, lakes, swimming pools, even a tiny glass of water.

Nothing was working. Gabriel was still screaming. Sam was still grasping him for dear life...

So, Sam changed tactics.

Maybe it wasn't just enough that he had to think about water. Maybe he had to think of the water putting Gabriel out. Maybe he had to _feel_ the water put Gabriel out - make if _feel_ like the warmth covering his entire body wasn't there.

Sam thought of the time Dean decided it'd be a great idea to submerge him in an ice bath while unconscious. Jesus Christ, that had been a cold awakening...

And water as cold as ice covered Sam's entire body.

His eyes flew open, barely registering the familiar ceiling of his room, before he yelped and threw himself off his bed and towards the now-vacated chair beside it.

He was awake.

He was soaking wet and freezing.

He was aware that he shouldn't have been the latter while being the former.

"Jesus shit, Sam!" Dean exclaimed, voice high with stress, from somewhere behind him.

Sam looked over his right shoulder, eyes wide as he shivered, to spot Dean near the door. The action gave him an odd feeling of déjà vu.

His brother was staring at Sam like he didn't know what to make of him. Sam wasn't _entirely_ sure why he deserved that look, but he did have his suspicions.

A wet sputter drew Sam's attention to Gabriel.

The Archangel was in the process of rolling over onto his side, away from Sam. If he wasn't careful, he'd roll right off the bed.

Sam rushed around his just-as-soaked mattress to get a hold of Gabriel before he did something to hurt himself.

Gabriel flinched when Sam touched his shoulder, left arm grabbing Sam's right on instinct. Sam couldn't tell if he was shivering with cold or fear. His face did seem a bit panicked before his golden, dulled eyes locked onto Sam. With a blink, that expression was gone. His grip loosened a bit on Sam's arm, though he seemed to be having trouble keeping himself up.

Sam tried to pull him into a sitting position, but Gabriel meagerly shook his head and let himself fall back down onto the damp mattress. Sam frowned at him, wondering what was wrong. Gabriel blinked feebly, staring at the wall, as another shiver wracked his body.

"You mind explaining what the fuck just happened?" Dean barked.

Sam reluctantly drew his eyes from Gabriel to Dean.

Dean looked more concerned than angry. Only now did Sam realize part of Dean's front was splattered with water, too. He'd most likely gotten caught in whatever freaky shit Sam'd just pulled.

"U-uh," Sam stuttered eloquently.

He looked back down at Gabriel.

He did need to explain what happened. If he didn't, Dean would just go from worried to pissed, and that wasn't a mood shift any of them needed. Besides, Sam kinda wanted to talk to someone about what he'd seen and done. Someone who was just as clueless as he was. For therapeutic reasons more than anything.

However, he didn't want to leave Gabriel.

He'd have to if he talked to Dean. He didn't think Gabriel wanted a reminder of what he'd just went through.

But, if he left...

Sam closed his eyes and sighed in defeat. Leaning forward, he gave Gabriel's arm a quick squeeze, mumbled to him that he'd be back soon, and then motioned for Dean to walk outside with him. His brother followed without a word. Once in the hallway, Sam closed the door gently and looked at Dean with worry.

Dean gestured with his arms for Sam to explain.

Sam licked his bottom lip and stuttered, "He... He was having a nightmare."

"Okay. And that explains the water how?"

Sam shifted uneasily, "He was on fire..."

Dean frowned and shook his head. He didn't understand what Sam was getting at. Understandable, considering Sam wasn't doing a good job of just coming out and saying what had happened. But he didn't feel... Now that he thought about it, he didn't think Gabriel would appreciate it if he divulged all that he'd seen in the Archangel's dream. What had accidentally been projected at him. Well, _through_ him. He didn't really understand how the mind-melding thing worked, but he was coming to the conclusion boundaries had been crossed that shouldn't have been.

Besides, he felt he needed to talk to Gabriel to clear up the theories swirling around his head regarding the Archangel. If Gabriel was up to it...

No use in telling Dean about something he wasn't sure was right.

Taking a deep breath, Sam tried again, "Gabriel was on fire. In his dream. It was making him panic, and I needed to calm him down so I could try and stop his Grace from being taken and... I thought of water?"

"You thought of water?" Dean asked slowly, eyebrows raised.

Until a thought occurred to him, causing him to frown. He was aggravated. Sam knew why.

"You thought of water and it just fuckin' _appeared_ out of thin air, like a mirage, and splashed down soaking _everything_... _Outside_ the dream! Is that what you're tellin' me? Because I gotta tell ya, Sam - "

"I know!" Sam exclaimed. "Believe me, Dean, _I know._ But... I didn't mean to. I - "

"Oh, that makes me feel so much better," his brother bit. "Knowing that you could mojo _anything_ out of Wonderland at any time. What's next, Sam? The Red Queen screaming, 'Off with their heads!'"

Sam actually rolled his eyes at that.

"_No_. It doesn't... It doesn't work that way, okay?"

"And how would you know?"

"Because it's my head and I just do?" Sam half-asked.

He was talking out of his ass now, he knew. Dean had raised a good point. Sam _didn't_ know what was next. He'd never _materialized_ anything before. Never pulled something out of a dream.

No... No, that wasn't true. He'd been burned by Gabriel's Grace before. Not a bad burn, but enough to make him wear long sleeves until they went away. If that had been _his_ doing and not the Grace's... Well, fuck.

"Look, you have to trust me on this," Sam plunged onward, ignoring his own doubts. "I can't do anything like the water trick without trying _really_ hard. I'm not even sure I can do it again if I tried. I was under a lot of stress when I did it, so...

_"And_ I was connected to Gabriel. I've never done stuff like that _without_ being connected to him - "

"So, you're saying that happened because of Gabriel?" Dean snapped, arms folded across his chest.

Open mouth, insert foot. His brother was working his way towards livid, and Sam was aware he'd just given Dean a prime target to take out his frustrations on. Not good. Because it _hadn't_ been Gabriel. That wasn't what he'd meant at all. He'd meant to say that he, Sam, could only do that if drawing off the Archangel. At least, that was his theory. He hadn't meant that Gabriel was the cause.

"No," Sam replied calmly. "I guess I'm saying it was both of us? Together. Like, being in the same mind space. But I doubt it'll happen again if I just...stay out of his head."

"Oh, good. Then stay out of his head," Dean growled. "Not that hard, Sam."

Sam thinned his lips in frustration. Yes, it actually was pretty hard, considering he'd done it more than once. One time without him knowing it. Not that he was going to tell Dean that because, if the current conversation continued the way it'd been going, Sam was going to strangle someone. Someone named Dean.

"Yeah. Okay. Fine."

He paused for a moment to think, eyes picking a spot on the floor.

He still needed to help Gabriel. That's why he hadn't wanted to leave his room in the first place. The Archangel was weak. Because Sam hadn't managed to do what he'd set out to. He may have managed to stop Gabriel's pain, but he hadn't healed him. He hadn't given him that little jump start he'd been meaning to. And, though he desperately wished he could, that he could just hop right back into Gabriel's head and manipulate his Grace again...he was a little afraid to.

After all, he was _soaking wet_. Cold, too, but he was trying to ignore that. And Gabriel was in the same predicament Sam was in. All because of his uncontrollable powers. They weren't _completely_ uncontrollable, but there was still a risk of backfire. One Sam wouldn't take with Gabriel's Grace, an already reactive power. Worst case scenario? He'd blast them all to kingdom come.

Frankly, he was surprised he hadn't done that already.

He sighed and rolled his shoulders, causing his clothes to move uncomfortably across his skin. And he knew he wasn't the only one having to put up with that feeling.

He looked up at Dean and nodded once.

"Help me move Gabriel," he mumbled. "Get him out of his clothes."

Dean gave him a look. It wasn't a flat-out objection, but he didn't seem to like the command.

"He's too tired to do it on his own," Sam clarified.

His brother groaned, arms dropping to his sides as he rolled his eyes. Dean reluctantly followed behind him as they re-entered Sam's room.

Sam cringed a little at the sight of Gabriel. The Archangel hadn't moved. He'd stayed half-curled up on his side, staring blankly at the wall. As if he wasn't lying in a soggy mess. Sam caught the small tremble he was trying to hide.

He frowned as he walked over to Gabriel. Something was wrong, and he didn't think it was just the lethargy from having his Grace drained. No, he had a pretty good idea that what was wrong with Gabriel was mental. Especially with how Gabriel, though clearly aware of his surroundings, refused to look at either one of them.

When Sam pulled him up, he came easily. But there was a reluctance in his stance. In the sullen look on his face.

Sam bit his bottom lip as he looked up at Dean. His brother either didn't notice the mood Gabriel was in, or he didn't care. He was simply content to glare down at the Archangel. No sympathy from him, then. What else was new?

"Come on," Sam commanded gently, bringing Gabriel's right arm around his shoulders.

Gabriel staggered only once before he stood beside Sam. It was an awkward position, what with Sam being taller than him, but, since Dean deemed it okay to simply shadow them during their walk to a free, clean room, it was a position they had to work with. At least Dean had the curtesy to open the door for them.

Gabriel retained his silence as they helped him undress. He _did_ actually try to do that on his own, a tired, disgusted scowl on his face. The only real help he needed was getting his jacket off and his shoes. Dean helped remove the jacket. As for the shoes, Gabriel nearly toppled over when he bent down to untie them, grabbing onto Sam's shoulder when Sam quickly rushed for him. Gabriel grunted, part annoyed and part grateful, and Sam decided to remove the shoes himself. He removed the socks, too.

The pants were kicked off with the fervor of an angry child. Sam frowned at the display. He had to lean back to keep from getting smacked in the face. Taking pity on Gabriel, he soon grabbed the material that had already made it off the Archangel's legs and tugged it the rest of the way off. He rolled the wet pants the same way he did his own and placed them aside. When he looked back up, Gabriel was glaring.

Not at him, but the floor. Sam wasn't sure what was causing the ever-increasing foul mood. He had clues, of course. The vulnerability the Archangel was forced to deal with being the number one contender. But still...

Sam took a quick, and _innocent_, glance at Gabriel's boxers and, though they were damp, too, decided he'd let the other keep that shred of dignity. If he wanted them gone, he could remove them himself. Later. Probably when both Winchesters had left the room and were long gone. ...Unless Gabriel was completely stubborn, and then he'd probably just lie in bed with damp underwear because, hey!, why not?

Would it work for or against him if he offered Gabriel a spare pair of his own?

"Can you take your shirt off yourself?" Sam questioned gently.

Gabriel scoffed, rolling his eyes, but began to do just that.

"Oh, good," Dean quipped, making his way around the bed to pick up the discarded clothes pile near Sam. "Because you removing his pants for him was enough awkward for me for one day."

It was Sam's turn to roll his eyes as he chided, "_Dean_."

Gabriel's shirt made it over his head with a quiet _fwoomph. _Sam almost smirked at the way his hair stuck up at odd angles and clung to his face. Almost. For his attention quickly left the sight to fall on a discoloration on Gabriel's bare chest.

Sam inhaled sharply, not thinking to stop himself.

It was a scar. A white scar, located just below Gabriel's sternum, that was angrily jagged. Sam could make out the main shape of an angel blade within it.

Now he understood. He'd had a hunch, but Sam was finally seeing evidence of what had transpired between Gabriel and his older brother. He knew why Gabriel's dream had turned out the way it had.

Lucifer's taunting words echoed in his mind. The Archangel had been incredibly cruel. And God had deigned to leave the mark behind as a reminder. Some family...

Gabriel's eyes snapped up to meet Sam's. His face was carefully blank, but his eyes... They held a storm. One that dared Sam to say something. One that, perhaps, had been born out of fear that he would. Gabriel was feeling trapped again, on top of exposed, and he _would_ lash out to protect himself.

Sam said nothing. He held Gabriel's gaze and tried to impart the silent message that he meant no harm. Hell, he may have even turned up the puppy dog eyes just to relieve some of Gabriel's fear. 'Don't mind me, Gabriel, I'm just a bleeding heart.'

Dean hissed through his teeth, drawing a wide-eyed, worried stare from Sam. He saw the scar, too.

For a brief moment, Sam panicked. All it would take were a few crass words and Dean would ruin any chance they had at making even a shaky friendship with Gabriel.

Thankfully, Dean caught on. He glanced from Sam's stern warning back to the Archangel.

Gabriel slid his almost predatory glare to Dean. Even with his drenched appearance, his curved back, and hunched shoulders, he looked imposing. The same feeling of static Sam'd felt in the motel room a day ago tickled at his skin. Dean felt it, too. Sam could tell by the way he straightened his back.

Dean's lips twitched with a quick, nervous smile. He indicated the damp wad of Gabriel's clothes in his hand.

"I'm just going to go throw these in the laundry. What size do you wear? I'll go see if the Men of Letters had anything that'd fit ya."

Sam slowly let out the breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding. The static dissipated. Gabriel's glare lessened from a warning to something that was as judgmental as it was bored.

"Check the tags, genius," Gabriel replied coolly.

Dean actually blushed a little, looking from Gabriel to the clothes and then to Sam. He shrugged his shoulders.

"Right. I- Yeah, that was kinda... I'll be back later."

He frowned and shuffled out of the room, holding the dripping mess in his arms away from his body. Which wasn't really needed considering his front was already wet. Dean didn't shut the door. Not that that bothered Sam. He was going to have to leave to get changed anyway. Saved him the trouble of opening the door.

Sam turned his attention back to Gabriel. Gabriel, however, had already turned his attention away from Sam. He'd turned and was slipping under the covers with intent. That intent was to ignore Sam, if the frown of his lips was anything to go by. He pulled the grey sheets over him, up to his neck, and flumped his head onto the pillow less than gently. Then, he _pouted_ at the ceiling.

Well. Sam'd been right about the underwear thing.

But he wasn't done with Gabriel. Not by a long shot. Even if the Archangel had plans to be done with him. No, Sam was going to get to the bottom of a few things, whether Gabriel talked to him or not. He'd spent years hammering away at Dean's carefully constructed shell. Gabriel's wouldn't be anything new. He'd just have to make sure he didn't hammer _too_ hard.

Sam took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders.

"I'm going to go change," he announced. "And then I'm coming back. And we're going to talk."

Gabriel's pout morphed into a scowl. He cut his eyes to glare at Sam.

"We _need_ to talk, Gabriel, and you know it. The sooner the better."

Gabriel held his glare for a few seconds until he was sure Sam wasn't going to back down. Upon confirming that, he sighed and resumed staring at the ceiling.

"Fine," he drawled.

Sam nodded and left. He returned to his room and spared a quick glance at his bed.

It was ruined. Probably. Maybe the mattress would dry out, but how long would that take? And would it mold? He didn't know and he didn't particularly care. There were plenty other spares in the Bunker. He'd just take one of those and move it in here. Easier than moving all of his junk.

He changed clothes quickly, leaving the wet ones in a pile in the corner. The corner he always dropped his clothes when he was too lazy to take them down to the laundry room. This time, though, he wasn't so much lazy as he was in a hurry.

When he returned to Gabriel's room, the Archangel didn't so much as twitch. Sam ignored Gabriel ignoring him, grabbed the chair from under the desk, and pulled it beside the bed. He sat with his side facing Gabriel's. He didn't want to completely face the other. He didn't want Gabriel to think he was interrogating him or something. No, he just wanted to talk. To relieve some pressure Gabriel might be feeling. Pressure his every move seemed to scream he was feeling...

Sam didn't say anything at first as he rubbed his palms against his jeans. He wanted Gabriel to start. He hoped Gabriel would start. When nothing was spoken for a solid minute, Sam silently cursed the other's hard-headedness and began instead.

"So..." He hesitated. "Dream."

Gabriel hummed.

"Did... Did that really happen? With Lucifer? The chasing thing and..."

Gabriel was silent for a moment, frowning slightly, before he replied, "Not exactly. In essence... May as well have been."

It was Sam's turn to frown as he looked down at Gabriel.

"Why would he have done that?" Sam asked. "I mean, I know Lucifer. I know... Well, I _know_. But still. You were his brother. Why would he treat you like that?"

The corner of Gabriel's lip twitched as a disdainful glint shown in his eyes.

"I got cocky," Gabriel said airily. "Tried to stop him. Tried to warn him. Begged. Little brothers should know better than to think _they_ know better."

Sam scoffed to keep from cringing.

"And, after all that, you still _loved _him?"

Gabriel turned his head towards Sam and finally _looked_ at him. But the weight behind that gaze made a shiver run down Sam's spine, and not the good kind. Sam frowned, an inkling of what Gabriel was telling him worrying him. Then, Gabriel looked out the still-open door. Just long enough to confirm Sam's suspicions. His eyes met Sam's again.

Sam opened his mouth to object. He opened it, and shut it, opened it again. Nothing would come out. He looked down at his hands fidgeting in his lap.

"It's hard, isn't it, Sam?" Gabriel questioned, oddly gentle. "You want to say, 'No.' No, that isn't how it is at all. He's a good person, I swear! ...But you can't. Because he's not always a good person, is he? You _know_, Sam. Don't judge me for having felt the exact same way you do."

"He tries," Sam mumbled.

Gabriel raised his eyebrows once in acknowledgment.

"Got me there."

Sam frowned again, gathering his courage to ask, "Did he- He stabbed you, didn't he?"

Gabriel huffed, "With my own blade. Still in my own hand."

Sam did cringe at that.

"Funny thing was," Gabriel continued, "that it hurt more to know he had no problem killing me than it did when he _actually_ killed me.

"I didn't go in there to kill him. I _couldn't_. ...Feeling wasn't mutual.

"I knew that. At least, I'd thought I'd known that. That's why I made that corny, _porny_ video.

"But it was one thing to think it. It was worse to actually_ know_ he didn't care. To see it in his eyes while he held me still and _twisted the knife_."

Those last words were snarled as Gabriel glared at some point on the wall. Sam stared at him. He didn't know what to say. What was there _to _say? I'm sorry? My condolences? ...That sucks? Nothing he could think of seemed to have enough weight to it.

But silence didn't seem right, either.

"I'm sorry," he wound up defaulting to.

Gabriel looked at him. It was an age-old look. Wary. None of the heat he'd had a second before.

Sam didn't like him looking like that. He was used to the Trickster. He was used to light-heartedness coming from Gabriel. Even his rage had been veiled behind a joke. But this seriousness and melancholy... It led to severity Sam wasn't sure he was ready to deal with. Not right now. Even though he'd, technically, asked for it by beginning this conversation.

"I was wrong about you, Sam," Gabriel admitted, both confusing and surprising him. "I saw Lucifer in you, I _feared_ you for that, and I took it out on you. And I was _wrong_. You are nothing like Lucifer and you never have been. Forget what I said in that warehouse. Forget whatever he told you."

Sam blinked away the tears he felt forming in his eyes as Gabriel pushed himself up to sit with his shoulders pressed against the headboard.

Sam wanted to leave. Because he wanted to believe what Gabriel was saying, and he did, but at the same time he _didn't_. He'd spent years trying to convince himself that Lucifer had been wrong. That just because he'd been the Vessel of the Devil didn't mean anything. That he _knew_ who he was. ...And for years, it was as if he'd been told differently. He saw it in the bad luck that followed the Winchesters like the plague. He heard it from a young girl whose family Lucifer's demons had murdered. He even heard it whispered in throw-away comments his own brother would make from time to time.

Doubt was a very powerful thing.

It kept Sam seated, wringing his hands in his lap. He looked up from them when Gabriel pointed out the door. Some of Gabriel's wariness had lifted. He looked determined.

"He wears the mark of Lucifer now. It may have branded Cain's arm, his soul, but it was given to him by my brother." He dropped his arm. "It carries the same cruelty, corruption, whatever the hell it was that turned my brother into what you saw.

"Lucifer didn't hesitate to kill me. He thought himself justified. Cain killed Abel feeling the same way."

Sam stared at him, wide-eyed, knowing what he was inferring. Gabriel didn't look away this time. He refused to.

"Fratricide is a very common theme in this Universe, Sam. It's God's little joke. You were able to beat it, and I'm still in awe of you about that, but Dean's not going to be able to. I'm sorry, but the Mark doesn't work that way. And the longer it spreads..."

Gabriel shook his head, not even bothering to hide the sympathy in his eyes.

"He _will_ kill you. And he _won't_ care. No matter how much you plead, no matter how many times he hits you, _nothing_ will stop him until you're dead. And you don't deserve that. I did, but not you."

Sam huffed a watery laugh and shook his head, "You didn't - "

"Don't. I know a lot more about what I did than you do. I spent centuries dealing out just desserts, okay? I _know_ what I deserved."

Sam looked back down at his hands, clenching them together. Gabriel was right. At least, Sam was pretty sure he was right. His logic was usually sound, whenever he finally decided to voice it.

"So we work on stopping it," he muttered. "Get rid of it before he falls that far. He doesn't _want_ to be that, to be a demon. He... I still need to tell him about possibly altering the Mark. If he agrees quickly then we should be good, right?"

He looked up at Gabriel, but Gabriel's confidence now seemed shaky. Sam worried.

"You're not well enough," Sam stated.

"No," Gabriel admitted. "I'm glad you tried to help me, Sam. Little peeved that you saw some things I didn't want you to, but eh. I'll live. But you didn't recharge my Grace. And if Metatron keeps using the siren as often as he has..."

"It might be too late."

Gabriel nodded.

Sam fidgeted. To save Dean he'd have to remove the Mark. Before they could remove the Mark, they had to take out Abaddon. To do that they had to get the Blade from Crowley. And they had to do all of that as quick as possible so that Gabriel could try and alter the Mark, since the theory of using Cain fell short - it would take too long to find the demon. However, for _that_ Gabriel had to be at full strength. Something he couldn't be because of Metatron.

No. Because of_ Gadreel_. Gadreel was the one actually using the sigil.

Sam frowned. Gabriel had tried to tell him earlier that morning: Gadreel could help them. Sam hadn't wanted to listen. He still didn't want to. But, now, Dean's life was on the line, as was Gabriel's, and Sam _would_ go against his own wishes to make sure they survived. He would stop Gadreel. He'd... Loathe as he was to think it, he'd try and get the angel to switch sides again. It was the only way to get anything done and get it done _right. _He could only hope Kevin wouldn't judge him too harshly for it.

Silence had descended upon the room while he'd been thinking. Now that he noticed, he realized how uncomfortable it was. The gravity of the situation seemed to darken the whole room.

Sam cleared his throat and tried to bring up something a little more innocent. Something less stressful. Not just to help drag himself out of the funk, but Gabriel, too.

"Okay. Um... Change of topic: Why do you have four wings?"

Gabriel's left brow rose, faint amusement clear on his face. Sam sensed he knew what Sam was doing, but he also didn't call Sam out on it. Instead, he answered.

"I'm part cherub. Was the leader of them, once upon a time. Or should I say _in the beginning," _he joked, waving his hands mockingly.

Sam smirked at the play on words, and then frowned.

"What like a cupid?"

Gabriel surprised Sam with a laugh. An eye-crinkling, dimple-forming laugh. One Sam felt himself wanting to mirror, even though he wasn't aware why what he'd said was so funny.

* * *

**A/N: **You might notice I'm a fan of abrupt endings. Anyhoo, I feel that, for the sake of clarifying the mood of Gabriel at this point in time, I should bring attention to the song "Jesus Christ" by Brand New. Since this fic focuses on Sam, I rarely get to reveal Gabriel's inner thoughts and processes other than what I'm already doing. So... I'll just use music to steer any still confused in the proper direction.

If you're still confused by anything, feel free to leave a review or send a message. I tend to answer said questions to clear up any misunderstandings. Plus, it'll help me remember to be more thorough in my explanations...if I can. I mean, Sam may be psychic but he's not Chuck. Oh! But don't expect me to spoil. I'm not THAT nice.


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